


Les Glorieux

by Syncogon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, 全职高手 - 蝴蝶蓝 | Quánzhí Gāoshǒu - Húdié Lán, 全职高手 | The King's Avatar (Cartoon)
Genre: (just one character for fun), (this is les mis what do you expect), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Les Misérables, Character Death, Ensemble Cast, Genderbending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, Out of Character, Too Many Sideplots, basically qzgs chars in the plot of les mis, lots of references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syncogon/pseuds/Syncogon
Summary: Besides, there is a point where the brilliant and the daring are associated in a single word, an immortal word,les glorieux…





	1. break those chains with all you possess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting so long. Why do I do this to myself. This was supposed to be a oneshot. And now, I don’t even want to think about how long it’s becoming, only that it will surpass the range for “reasonable one-shot length,” so I’m splitting it up and posting it in parts as I write. Here’s chapter 1. 
> 
> This will follow some strange mixture of the book and the musical; of course not everything will align exactly. Knowledge of Les Mis not necessary to read this, though it would probably enhance enjoyment. 
> 
> Anyway, this is a very self-indulgent piece in various ways, including narration style, so forgive me for that. 
> 
> I think there were a lot of other notes I wanted to make but I’ve forgotten the rest. I’m so tired. I’ll add them to this or the next update if/when they come back to mind. In the meantime, please enjoy!

Once upon a time, a boy stole a loaf of bread to feed his starving family. His name was Ye Qiu.

The police find him at his home, and drag him away without much fanfare. The boy doesn’t resist, so arrest is quick and easy. But if the police had taken the time to search the home, they might have seen the second, near-identical boy hiding in the next room over, trembling and crying and ultimately too petrified to stop his older twin from sacrificing himself to take the punishment.

 

“Prisoner 10137-”

“My name is Ye Qiu,” he spits out. It’s a lie, but they have no reason to know that.

This guard is only a handful of years older than the boy, but he bears a fearsome visage that adds years to his appearance. His is a face that would make any criminal pre-emptively confess their crimes and offer up their wallets for hope of some mercy – a mercy that would not be there, for this guard, though young, was already renowned for his harsh stance toward crime of any sort, as well as unusual resistance toward bribery.

“And I’m Han Wenqing,” the guard growls, leaning right into the boy’s face. “Do _not_ forget my name, 10137.”

Ye Qiu – Ye Xiu, his real name is – refuses to flinch. “Thanks, I never asked,” he replies cheekily, and it’s completely worth the skull-rattling blow he receives for it. As it turns out, this first encounter between the two of them is fairly representative of all their future interactions in the years to come.

 

After eight and a half years in prison – eight and a half years of hard labor, under the harsh rule of Han Wenqing, for the oh-so-terrible crime of stealing a loaf of bread – Ye Xiu breaks out, with the strong body he had developed, and the quick mind he had always possessed.

He is still sane, mostly. Prison had not completely broken his spirit. But of course, it is not an easy thing for an escaped convict to find a job and identity. He reaches a town and wanders around, trying to find work or even shelter for just one night, but the townspeople see his haggard appearance and close their doors.

Finally, he arrives at the last inn. The woman running it takes one look at him and seems prepared to turn him away like all the others, but at the last moment, something in her eyes softens, and she allows him to come inside, giving him a meal on the house.

He ends up sitting next to another man, who looks him over, taking in his sleep-deprived appearance. “You must have quite the story,” he says, with a lifted eyebrow, though Ye Xiu senses no malice in the observation.

“That’s one way to put it,” says Ye Xiu with a wry smile.

“Care to share it?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s fair.” The man nods and takes a sip from his drink, and Ye Xiu realizes that this man also was not too much older than himself. In fact, Ye Xiu should really be calling himself a man now, too – a lot can happen in eight and a half years, even in a prison, and this includes growing up.

He wonders what has happened to his family, to his younger twin, over the course of these eight and a half years. He wonders if he’ll ever see them again.

“I don’t mean any offense, but you don’t look like you have much money on you. If you want, you can stay with me, in my room for the night,” the man offers. “I promise I won’t harm you. My name’s Wu Xuefeng, by the way.”

“I’m Ye… Xiu,” he replies, hesitating only a fraction of a second before giving his real name. “Thank you.” He’s wary, of course, but prison has strengthened him, and he figures he can fight if it comes to that. Moreover, Ye Xiu has always been a fairly good judge of character – a necessary trait for survival in his status – and he feels that this man has honest intentions.

The inn is a well-maintained place. Ye Xiu welcomes the chance to clean himself up, and he even changes his clothes, thanks to Wu Xuefeng.

In the room, the man doesn’t pry into Ye Xiu’s painful past, but he does talk about himself. He shows Ye Xiu the collection of silver bracelets and other trinkets he carries in a bag with him – “They’re supposed to help your _qi_ circulation – the circulation of the energy within your body,” he explains, and Ye Xiu nods, the perfect model of an interested student.

That night, Ye Xiu lies awake and listens to the other man’s quiet snoring. He stares at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time before reaching a terrible decision. This was a man who had shown him nothing but kindness, and here he was, robbing him. It stings his soul, but he – he has no choice! Does he?

He reaches the ground floor of the inn, bag of silver in hand, and is stopped by the innkeeper.

He could take her on and run for it, probably, but there’s a terrifying anger in her eyes, and more importantly, a profound disappointment that shakes Ye Xiu to his core. He stands there, frozen, as she sends for someone to fetch Wu Xuefeng.

“What happened?” the man asks, still yawning as he comes down the stairs.

“This thief-” the innkeeper shoots Ye Xiu a nasty glare, “-is stealing your things! I knew I shouldn’t have let him in!”

Wu Xuefeng looks at him, and Ye Xiu can stare down many a terrifying foe but he can’t meet this man’s eyes. He wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“I appreciate your concern,” says Wu Xuefeng, “but you’re mistaken, Madame Chen Guo. What he holds is a gift I have given him. In fact, Ye Xiu, my friend, you left in such a hurry, you left the best behind.” Wu Xuefeng steps forward with a smile, and passes Ye Xiu a smaller bag. It clinks as he takes it, but he doesn’t dare look now.

“I…” Ye Xiu is utterly speechless. “…Thank you.” It’s wholly inadequate for the goodness this man has shown him, a goodness that he doesn’t deserve.

Wu Xuefeng continues to smile. “All I ask of you is that you live as an honest man, and do good for this world,” he says, and Ye Xiu nods mutely.

Later, after leaving the inn, Ye Xiu checks the contents of the smaller bag. He finds three small goblets, intricately detailed with designs of wings and gears and swords, made of solid gold.

 

Years pass.

As it turns out, Ye Xiu, despite his lowly background, is very talented at almost anything he puts his mind to. It’s almost ridiculous, really, but he’s certainly not complaining; after all, hard work alone isn’t enough to succeed. With his combined skill and diligence, along with the help from Wu Xuefeng’s gift, he gains wealth and rises rapidly in status, until he’s practically unrecognizable to anyone who had known him before – not that there had been many such people, anyway.

He does return home once, and searches for his family, but they have disappeared without a trace. He can only resign himself to the fact that he will likely never see Ye Qiu again. Ye Qiu, his dear younger brother…

He mourns for the loss. After that, he leaves his hometown, and never looks back.

He finds himself at another town, not quite city-sized but with a decently large population, and lives a relatively quiet, modest, unassuming life. Or, he tries, anyway, but he also tries to do good where he can, as he was guided to do. Word soon spreads of the man who will always help anyone in need.

One event in particular helps cement an impression in people’s minds.

There’s a man stuck beneath an overturned cart, yelling at passerby. “Oy, you!” he shouts, waving his one free arm the best he can; the rest of his body is pinned. “Help this old man out here! My back is about to break! Do you want to let an old man starve to death like this?”

A crowd has gathered around and is muttering, but the cart looks heavy, and no one seems confident in their ability to free the man. Someone does, however, come and fetch Ye Xiu, who looks at the gathered crowd, and wonders why they didn’t try to work together. Life isn’t a game for individuals…

He quickly issues directions to specific people, and then, in an incredible display of strength, manages to single-handedly lift the cart, as helpers quickly extricate the man from underneath. When he’s finally out, Ye Xiu lets the cart fall back down with a crash.

Damn… that kind of hurt. He tries to stretch his back, and hopes he didn’t sprain anything.

“Thanks,” the older man grumbles, almost reluctantly, as though unwilling to put himself in debt to someone else. He’s much more confident now that he’s not on the verge of dying. “But I’ll have you know, if I were younger, I could have gotten out of there myself!”

Ye Xiu looks him over. There’s a sort of grizzled look about him, with wrinkles about his eyes and stubble on his chin, but all in all his complaints about his age seem somewhat over-the-top. “You’re not even that old,” Ye Xiu says flatly. “You’re what, 40?”

“32!” The man humphs, and Ye Xiu almost chokes. Hell, that wasn’t even that much older than himself, and this guy was acting like he was on his deathbed!

“Well, old man,” he says, not bothering to keep the amusement out of his voice as he claps him on the shoulder, “be more careful next time, hm?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man grumbles. He takes a pipe from his pocket, puffs on it, blows out a cloud of smoke, then wanders off.

Ye Xiu straightens and glances around at the crowd that has gathered. He nods to a few acquaintances, people who know him after he’d helped them in the past, then –

Fuck.

He’s still too young to be having heart attacks, but the sight of _that_ man in the crowd nearly gives him one. What the hell is _Han Wenqing_ doing here? Doesn’t he have, like, prison duties or something? There’s no way – he’s not _still_ after him, is he? It’s been years!

Ye Xiu does his best to steady his breathing as he makes brief eye contact with him, then casually looks away. It’s been long enough. He’s changed enough. He won’t be recognized. He’ll be fine. Probably.

 

Not too long afterward, Ye Xiu becomes mayor of the town – so much for leading a quiet life, he laments. But the job needs to be done, and the people seem to think he’s the best fit for this, and so he leads to the best of his ability, all the while remembering – do good for this world.

Incidentally, his new position means that he interacts with Han Wenqing – Inspector Han – on a fairly regular basis. Apparently, he had transferred out of prison guard duty and became the chief police inspector of this town. He’s good at his job, Ye Xiu will give him that – his scary face alone is enough to deter most crime, and he’s reliable and perseverant in snuffing out all the rest.

But it takes all of Ye Xiu’s willpower not to tease him about his forbidding looks, or the many other things he finds somewhat silly about him. Making fun of Old Han is something that prisoner Ye Qiu did on a regular basis, and Ye Xiu doesn’t want to raise any red flags.

Because apparently, Inspector Han is, indeed, still looking for escaped convict 10137. Delightful.

And Ye Xiu only knows this because Inspector Han told him himself – it makes him want to laugh at the irony of it all. The inspector was unusually earnest in telling him all about how this prisoner escaped and how he proceeded to spend an unhealthy number of years trying to track him down. In fact, Ye Xiu is pretty sure that Inspector Han strongly suspects him of being said escaped prisoner, because of the name similarity, and the vague physical likeness, and the whole stunt with lifting the cart by himself, since Ye Qiu had earned a reputation in prison for his physical strength.

In retrospect, had Ye Xiu known that he was being watched like that at the time, he would have made extra sure that others would help him lift it – at the time, he hadn’t wanted to risk anyone else getting hurt. But hell, if this mighty inspector was there too, then why didn’t _he_ help? Ye Xiu grumbles to himself.

He still has the prisoner brand on his chest, actually, which is a pretty big giveaway. So, hopefully he never has a reason to take his shirt off in front of the inspector. Or even if he did, maybe he could use his irresistible personal allure to charm his way out of that situation…

…He’s going to stop his thoughts right there.

 

One day, while wandering his town, Ye Xiu stumbles upon a boy selling handmade crafts on the street.

He seems to be in his teenaged years, just on the cusp of adulthood. From the way he looks, the street is probably the only home he’s known in a while. Still, although his clothes are dirty, he seems overall relatively healthy, and noticeably brightens as Ye Xiu approaches, flashing a toothy grin.

“Can I interest you in anything, Mayor?” he asks, with a grand gesture. And Ye Xiu, not in any particular hurry, stays and listens to the boy introduce his works. The crafts he has are really quite clever little things. Each is made of simple materials, yet the designs are creative and intricate, and many have additional features that are hidden at first glance. Moreover, the boy is quite the charismatic person, and his lively voice – as well as the presence of the esteemed mayor – soon draws a crowd of people to watch. The boy impresses a number of people, and he manages to sell a number of his pieces just in the span of time that Ye Xiu spends there.

“You’re quite the little genius, aren’t you?” Ye Xiu asks, smiling.

“Thanks!” The boy straightens at the praise. “I always like making things, it’s a lot of fun, you know?”

“What’s your name? How’d you come to do this?” Ye Xiu is very curious as to how this boy became so skilled.

“Ah…” He rubs the back of his head. “Well, I’m Su Muqiu. Me and my little sister are orphans, so I have to provide for her any way I can, you know?” And Ye Xiu nods at that, for he understands too well that feeling.

Su Muqiu seems to appraise him carefully, piercing him with eyes gleaming with intelligence beyond his years. “Here,” he says suddenly, pulling a small box out of who-knows-where. He opens it and displays to Ye Xiu its contents – a small pin, golden, engraved with the design of a single maple leaf. “I think it suits you, don’t you agree?”

It does, Ye Xiu thinks, even though he can’t articulate why. He reaches into his pocket to pay, but the boy stops him.

“Take it as a gift,” says Su Muqiu. Seeing Ye Xiu about to protest, he adds, “After all, you brought me all this business today, Mayor.”

So Ye Xiu accepts the pin, and, as the boy watches, affixes it to his jacket, where it sits glittering in the sunlight.

“I hope to see you again sometime,” Ye Xiu says, and gives a friendly wave before continuing on his walk.

 

Ye Xiu meets Su Muqiu a few more times, coming across the boy as he strolls along the streets. It happens almost too frequently to be a coincidence, but all the better – for his part, Ye Xiu is very curious about this boy. Their acquaintance develops over these sporadic encounters into something of a friendship, as Su Muqiu slowly reveals tidbits of his own life, describing a life that to Ye Xiu seems unjustly harsh, although the boy maintains a smile throughout his stories.

For as long as Su Muqiu can remember, it has always just been the two of them, him and his little sister, Su Mucheng. He’s always looking for odd jobs to earn money, in order to eventually build a comfortable life for the two of them; because of this, he’s built up quite a collection of skills over the years. Currently, he explains, his sister is staying in another town, working for an innkeeper he knows. “I didn’t want us to separate,” Su Muqiu sighs, “but she insisted on helping earn money, and that that was the best place for her. Even though she’s younger than me, she’s really stubborn when she sets her mind to something.”

There’s something else he isn’t saying, Ye Xiu senses, but he chooses not to push. He can see that this topic is one that pains the boy, and so Ye Xiu shifts the topic to lighter things.

 

After his very first encounter with Su Muqiu, Ye Xiu starts paying attention to the whispers on the street. They were always there, mind you, but now he _really_ listens to what they’re saying, about a boy with lively fingers and a quick mind, who, by day, can make marvelous trinkets of any kind, things to delight and entertain.

Who, by night, can get you any product you desire. Legality isn’t a question, so long as the price is right.

“Autumn Tree,” Inspector Han growls one day, slapping another stack of papers on the mayor’s desk. “We need to shut him down.” And Ye Xiu thinks about the boy, a young genius just trying to keep himself and his little sister alive, and says nothing.

 

In the end, after many meetings, Ye Xiu finally convinces Su Muqiu to let him actually buy something from him. “Just take my money! Let me help you in this way, it’s the least I can do.”

“Fine…” the boy grumbles, reluctantly accepting the payment. “But I’m not giving you anything less than the best.”

As it turns out, Su Muqiu’s best is very good indeed. He presents to Ye Xiu a petit-sized umbrella, painted in white and gold and red. But the real genius of it was its ability to change shape – in addition to serving as an umbrella, it could flip inside out and become a spear, or fire projectiles from its tip; the handle concealed further slots for blades. All of the weapon forms were simply small models, not meant for real harm, but it was still a true masterpiece of design and ingenuity.

As Ye Xiu walks home, he twirls it absently in his hands, running his fingers along the engravings on the handle. The Thousand Chance Umbrella, the lettering reads, and then, in smaller font beneath, Lord Grim. He keeps the umbrella in his suitcase, the one he carries with him at all times. It’s securely tucked in alongside all of his emergency belongings, as well as the three golden cups, which he had never needed to sell.

How, he wonders, can he help this Su Muqiu?

 

Su Muqiu has never liked accepting help. It makes him feel incapable, for one thing. He believes that he can raise himself and his sister by himself; he holds this belief because he has to, because if not him, then who else? There is no one else to care.

Su Muqiu had arrived at this town on one ordinary day, alone for the first time in many years. It’s not quite large enough to be a city, but lively in its own right. Now, he only has the immediate worry of keeping himself alive, one person instead of two, which makes things slightly easier. And even though the chief inspector of this town seems to be quite harsh, crime can never be stamped out completely, and Su Muqiu quickly determines the fastest ways of earning money in this place.

Oh, he still tinkers, as it’s always been a genuine interest of his, and he earns some profit through selling his creations. But now, the bulk of his income comes from the activities he performs under the name Autumn Tree. He’s done the calculations, and he thinks that at this rate, it will take less than a year to get sufficient funds to start a new and safe life for himself and Su Mucheng in the city. He allows himself to hope.

Su Muqiu is always listening to the people around him as a means of staying alive, and to his moderate surprise, the people of this town seem to constantly discuss and gossip about their mayor. They like him, for sure, but it seems like hardly a day passes without his being at the center of some new piece of news. Su Muqiu has been to many places in his brief life, but this is the first time that the mayor has been the subject of so much talk amongst his citizens, and so Su Muqiu hopes for a chance to meet him soon.

Said chance comes soon enough. Upon their first meeting, Su Muqiu immediately deduces that there’s more to this mayor than first meets the eye. Rather like himself, in fact, Su Muqiu thinks wryly, as he plays the part of an innocent boy, as he smiles at and charms the people who have gathered to see his creations. As he feels the weight of the twin pistols hidden beneath his clothes, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Su Muqiu has always liked to solve puzzles, and so at the end of their first meeting, Su Muqiu offers the mayor a pin, a little trinket that happens to also serve as a rudimentary tracker. With that, it’s all the easier to arrange “casual” meetings – and the mayor being as popular as he is, Su Muqiu can usually get more money than usual during that time, even as he talks with the mayor. Ye Xiu is reticent about his past, naturally, but Su Muqiu gleans that he too had lived a difficult life, and that he too has a younger sibling he would do anything to protect.

Su Muqiu, who has always been forced to live a life of suspicion, finds himself slowly trusting this man. Not like the way he “trusted” that innkeeper for whom Su Mucheng was now working. That man was greedy and selfish, but he wouldn’t let his little sister come to actual harm – that was about all Su Muqiu could say about him. On the other hand, Su Muqiu finds himself really believing that Mayor Ye Xiu is a good man, one of the few in this world. He writes letters to Su Mucheng, and mentions this man’s name.

And so time passes, and Su Muqiu slowly earns money, through the days and nights, counting down the time until he can be reunited with his sister. He knows, of course, the risks of his work – providing the services he does, he’s bound to make enemies, not just of the law but of other unscrupulous elements. Especially since, in the end, he’s still just a boy, a boy with no family and no group to protect him. Su Muqiu’s wits, charisma, and survival instincts are enough to help him escape some tight spots, but one night, his luck runs out.

 

Su Muqiu lies on the pavement, feeling his life seep out of the knife wounds across his chest and back, and he thinks of Su Mucheng.

 

But how long does it take for life to bleed out of a body? It depends. Perhaps Su Muqiu’s luck had not abandoned him completely, for in the haze of pain, even as he feels death’s touch, he sees shadows moving above him. He hears voices. He feels someone lifting him.

 

This is a peaceful town, all in all, so when an unfortunate citizen stumbles upon the grisly scene, the mayor is quickly alerted. “Get the injured to the hospital,” Ye Xiu immediately orders upon hearing the news, and he makes his way to the alleyway in record time, arriving at about the same time as hospital workers.

Ye Xiu is no stranger to death and dying, but the sight of the small and mangled body on the ground – a familiar face – is enough to make bile rise at the back of his throat. But the chest is still rising and falling, if faintly, and he allows himself to hope.

He can’t look at the wounds any longer, and his eyes fall upon Su Muqiu’s right hand, loosely wrapped around the handle of a small pistol. Several paces from his left hand lies an identical pistol.

Ignoring the warnings called by the others, Ye Xiu steps further into the alley. Hidden by the shadows, he finds three corpses on the ground, grown men. He sees the precise placement of the bullet wounds on them, and knows that these men, at least, have no use for a hospital anymore.

 

At the hospital, the doctors get to work immediately. Ye Xiu sits in a chair outside of the room, prepared to wait as long as it takes until he’s allowed to see Su Muqiu in person.

But he has hardly a minute of rest before he hears the rapid stomping of too-familiar footsteps. Resigned, Ye Xiu looks up into the face of his chief inspector.

“Yes, Inspector Han?” he asks, in a wonderfully saccharine tone.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing,” the inspector says, without preamble.

“Sitting here peacefully, catching a fleeting moment of rest until you came along,” Ye Xiu replies calmly.

“Cut the bullshit,” Han Wenqing growls. “We’ve been trying to find Autumn Tree for a long time, you know this. And now,” he continues, breathing heavily, “he falls right into our hands, and you’re wasting our citizens’ valuable resources like this?”

Ye Xiu isn’t surprised that the inspector had reached the same conclusion he had about this boy’s identity, and he doesn’t bother to try and lie. In fact, that thought doesn’t even cross his mind, because he automatically latches on to something else upsetting that the inspector had said.

“What do you mean, _wasting_?” he says, his calm beginning to splinter. “I am saving the life of a teenaged boy.” And that of a younger girl who depends upon him, he remembers, though he doesn’t mention that part to the inspector.

“You are saving the life of a murderer. You know the penalties for that crime.”

Ye Xiu considers himself a relatively patient man overall, but his patience is now fraying at the edges. The doctors are doing their best, he knows, but there’s a sick feeling in his stomach – he can’t get the sight of that mutilated body out of his mind. “You mean _this_? This was clearly self-defense!” he snaps at the inspector. “Look at how many injuries he has, he was attacked by an entire crew!”

“The law is the law.”

“What is wrong with you? He’s just a boy!”

“What is wrong with _you_?” Han Wenqing returns. “Would you spare his crimes simply because he is a _boy_? A man killed by a ‘boy’ is still a dead man!”

“I would spare his crimes because he has the capacity to grow into a better person!”

“You seem to have a strong personal investment in this matter!” The inspector is on his feet, glaring down at him.

Ye Xiu rises as well, stepping closer. “I,” he says, and he’s not even sure what he’s going to follow that up with, because he can’t think, his mind reeling with too many images, blurring and overlapping, Ye Qiu arriving home with that stolen loaf of bread, the golden goblets, _I have to provide for_ –

Fortunately, he doesn’t need to think of a reply, because at that moment, the door to the treatment room slides open.

“Um,” the nurse says, looking nervously between the two of them. “Mayor. You should come inside.” He glances at Han Wenqing, and adds, “You’ll have to stay out here, Inspector, I apologize…”

“I was just leaving,” the inspector says coolly. He turns on his heel and departs.

Well, that mess is definitely going to explode in his face soon, Ye Xiu thinks, but he’ll worry about that later. He follows the nurse into the room, and sees Su Muqiu on the bed. Although his wounds are now bandaged, he still looks deathly pale.

Su Muqiu sees him, and makes a rough approximation of the grin he had shown when they first met. “Mayor,” he whispers hoarsely, “I hope you like the Umbrella?”

Ye Xiu moves to kneel by him. He glances at the doctors for permission, then grasps the boy’s hand. “I do,” he says. “I still have it. You are truly a genius. You can take this world by storm, with your inventions…”

This earns a weak laugh. “Could,” he says. “Could have taken.” Before Ye Xiu can protest, the boy continues, “Please, Mayor,” a weak, shuddering breath, “you’re a good man. Look after my sister. Take care of Mucheng for me…”

“I will. I swear it.”

Su Muqiu takes his final breath, and Ye Xiu lays his limp hand carefully on the bed.

One of the doctors approaches him, with an envelope. “He had this on him, told us to give it to you,” she says, passing it over. There are three sheets within; the top one simply has a name and address, while the next two are dense with text – letters, from the look of it. One to Su Mucheng. One to him.

He slides them back in the envelope for now; reading them at this time would require greater strength than he possesses. But Ye Xiu steels his resolve. He doesn’t know what happened to Ye Qiu. He couldn’t save Su Muqiu. But he _would_ save Su Mucheng, no matter the cost.

 

The next day, Inspector Han arrives in the mayor’s office, and Ye Xiu braces himself. He’s still not entirely sure how he’s going to explain his absence as he goes and finds Su Mucheng – the town Su Muqiu had indicated is at least a day’s travel away. Han Wenqing definitely would not approve of the venture, and even if Ye Xiu did have ultimate authority over him, the chief inspector could make his life very difficult, even disregarding the fact that he is an escaped convict.

Then Han Wenqing opens his mouth, and that issue is pushed to the back of his mind. “I would like to submit my resignation.”

“Excuse me?”

Han Wenqing nods. “I have wronged you, sir.” He doesn’t break eye contact – Han Wenqing is never one to look away out of shame – but even so, Ye Xiu still can’t quite read the emotions there. Possibly the inspector himself doesn’t know what to feel.

Ye Xiu gestures for the inspector to continue, and so he does. “I have told you about that escaped convict I have been investigating, correct? I had unfairly suspected you of being him, and treated you improperly as a result. I am not suited to work under you, and the proper course of action is my dismissal.”

Ye Xiu can feel his heartrate spiking. This is… a lot to take in. Why is Han Wenqing telling him this now? Would it sound weird to ask why he was no longer under suspicion?

“I’m… glad I have earned your trust,” he says carefully. Does that sound fake? That probably sounds fake. But maybe it’s enough in line with his benevolent and jovial mayor persona? He’s also probably overthinking this.

“I received notice last night,” says Han Wenqing, still staring at him, “that Prisoner 10137 was found and recaptured. He will be standing trial in two days’ time.”

“Really now,” says Ye Xiu, keeping a neutral tone and expression.

“Really.” Han Wenqing’s reply is flat. The stare is getting unnerving, actually, even for someone from Ye Xiu, who’s had a lot of time to get used to his intimidating aura.

“Well, that’s good news for you,” Ye Xiu says. “You can finally stop chasing him. Are you going to the trial?”

“Of course. They requested my presence, that is why I was informed of it in the first place. Though I will not be testifying, only watching.”

“I see.” There’s a silence, as he’s not sure if Han Wenqing is going to say more. And then he remembers that this man had just tried to resign, and that he should probably address that first.

If Han Wenqing resigned here and went somewhere else, he would be out of Ye Xiu’s hair for good. This was a very tempting result – Ye Xiu could live a much less stressful life, without having to constantly watch how he acted, without having to perpetually look over his shoulder.

But that wouldn’t be fair to the inspector. After all, he’s completely right to be suspicious, not to mention that he’s unquestionably good at his job here in this town. And so Ye Xiu says, “Don’t be ridiculous, Inspector. I’m not dismissing you for doing your job. Though I am glad that you can receive some closure in this matter; it’s been long enough. Go back to your post.”

There’s a flicker of surprise in Han Wenqing’s eyes, before he bows at the waist. Upon straightening, he turns and makes to exit the office.

“By the way, where is the trial?” Ye Xiu calls after him, almost an afterthought. Han Wenqing gives him the time and location, in one of the nearby towns, and then leaves.

 

And now, Ye Xiu faces a choice.

He could sit back, and let this all play out naturally. He doesn’t know the person they mistakenly identified, has no tie to them, no responsibility. For all he knows, this person has committed worse crimes than him and deserves to be in prison.

What is Ye Xiu supposed to do, anyway? Go to the trial and somehow convince everyone that they have the wrong man? By revealing himself as the prisoner they’re looking for? Then baselessly hope they set the other man free? And assuming that even works, then what? Does he go back to prison, for a crime he himself didn’t even commit in the first place?

And what’s more, Ye Xiu is the mayor of a town. Can he just abandon his people, abandon his responsibilities?

And what about Su Mucheng?

Considering these very rational arguments, it seems like the path he should take is obvious. 

 

…But.

It wouldn’t be right.

This is a shorter argument, less based in logic. But in the end, this is the argument that convinces him – he cannot allow an innocent to be condemned on his behalf. Ye Xiu gathers his few belongings into his suitcase, leaves a letter on his desk to arrange for the continued running of this town, and departs for the trial.

The worst-case scenario is, of course, that he both fails to free the false-10137 and gets captured again himself. But Ye Xiu believes that, if he does this correctly, he’ll be able to avoid that bad end. The goal is that he clears the other man’s name and then escapes, goes to the other town to rescue Su Mucheng, and then goes into hiding. In his mind swirls the semblance of a plan.

 

“Look at my honest eyes!” the falsely-accused man cries out, trying to make eye contact with each of them in turn. “Would these eyes lie to you?”

Ye Xiu has never seen more untrustworthy eyes in his life.

“Behave,” says one of the guards, the only one wearing glasses – with his neat and gentle appearance, he looks more suited to be a polite professor than a prison guard. But his next words contrast that image fairly well: “Or we’ll cut your right hand off right here, and you can see how fun thieving is then.”

Wisely, the man stops talking, but he continues to make his best attempt at looking innocent.

From what Ye Xiu’s watched of the trial so far, he gathers that this man – who proudly declares himself to be “Fang Rui, the Right Hand of God” – was caught in an act of thievery, arrested, and then, based on other accounts and the prisoner tattoo branded on his chest, was identified to be escaped convict 10137. He claims he served his time, and that act of “thievery” he had just been arrested for was a set-up and pled innocent to that. He’s grinning, but there’s a clear air of fear about him – punishment for thievery is already excessive enough, in Ye Xiu’s opinion, and _that_ punishment hardly compares to the punishment for escaping prison.

One by one, witnesses come up and identify this Fang Rui as the Ye Qiu they interacted with in prison. Ye Xiu does indeed know these witnesses from his time served, but he’s still somewhat miffed that they can’t recognize Fang Rui as an entirely different person. Ye Xiu personally doesn’t think that Fang Rui looks much like him. But then again, Ye Xiu has been living in good circumstances these past years – if he’d still been on the street, then, who knows.

He watches the trial unfold. He’s made his decision, he’s not going to go back on it now – but when should he go up? When is the best time to brazenly interrupt the proceedings?

He waits, noting the changing positions of the guards posted around the room. Then, ignoring the protests, he steps right onto the stage – no one stops him, as many of the important people recognize him as mayor of the neighboring town.

Then he reveals his identity as Prisoner 10137, Ye Qiu. In thorough and properly dramatic fashion.

There’s a heartbeat of silence, the calm before the storm. Ye Xiu happens to make eye contact with Han Wenqing, who’s watching from the crowd. The inspector’s glare is downright murderous.

Then the chaos comes crashing down, and Ye Xiu doesn’t have time to be intimidated. He weaves and dodges – Han Wenqing reacts fastest, managing to grab his clothing; Ye Xiu spins, slams a fist right into his eye, half-mumbles an insincere apology for ruining his give-me-your-wallet-face, and keeps running. He slips through a side exit, he tumbles into a carriage he’d readied earlier.

Before the authorities can properly organize a squad to hunt him down, 10137 slips away again.

 

Su Mucheng’s current life situation is… well, it’s not _great_ by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s much better than it otherwise could be.

The inn known as Excellent Era is the largest and most profitable in this town. Run by a man named Tao Xuan, he had built it himself from the ground up, the perfect story of a self-made man, though he hadn’t accomplished the whole thing by himself. The Su siblings – and more specifically, Su Muqiu – had played no small role in this success, although this was never publicized. It is at this inn that Su Mucheng currently works and resides, after Su Muqiu left for the next town over to try his luck in other lines of work.

“I don’t want to separate either,” she’d argued. “But you’ve always been the one protecting me. Let _me_ help for once. It’ll be easier for your work, too, if you’re not worrying about me.”

“I’ll always worry for you,” Su Muqiu had sighed, ruffling her hair. “You’re my baby sister.” But he had relented at last, and the two of them parted ways for the first time in their lives.

There is one other girl working here at Excellent Era Inn with Su Mucheng, around the same age as herself, not-quite-teenaged, with dark hair almost blue in color, and a boyish build. They don’t talk too much, the two of them – they don’t really have the time, as each day is long and busy and tiring – but this Xu Boyuan is friendly, and there are no differences in treatment to breed resentment between the two of them.

They’re underpaid for their work, Su Mucheng knows this very clearly. But she’s not a genius like her brother, so at her age she doesn’t have much choice. In the end, money is money, and every piece she earns brings her that much closer to the day she and her brother can live together the peaceful life of which they’d dreamed. Su Muqiu sends her letters fairly often – he’d taught himself to read and write, and then helped her learn as well – and she sends replies whenever she can sneak away for long enough.

One late night, when most patrons had already retired to their respective rooms, a man walks in. This would be an entirely unremarkable occurrence – they have their rush hours, of course, but they can get customers at all hours – if not for what happens next.

As luck has it, Su Mucheng is the one to serve this man. She’s used to the patrons mostly ignoring her, but this one seems to be studying her, and it’s a strange feeling. So she tries to study him back, using the observational skills her brother has taught her. His clothing says he’s well-off, his posture says he’s exhausted, his aura says he’s kind.

“Excuse me,” the man finally says, politely, “May I ask what your name is?”

She considers lying, but some instinct compels her to the truth. “My name is Su Mucheng,” she answers.

The man nods, offering his hand to shake; hesitantly, she takes it. “Ye Xiu,” he introduces himself. “I have something to give you.” And he hands her an envelope, with a single sheet of paper inside.

“Please don’t read it yet,” he says. “If you could, please fetch your boss for me.”

So she does, slipping the envelope into her pocket.

…And Su Mucheng _knows_.

She can see it in the man’s eyes, the grief, the empathy, the anxiety, the pity. Today, her worst nightmare has come true.

But she staves off any and all emotion, freezing her heart into stone. She isn’t going to think about this, not yet, not now. She can’t let herself fall apart.

In her pocket, the envelope burns against her skin, and her eyes are burning too, but she holds herself together as she fetches Tao Xuan and brings him over to this man.

Some part of her still denies what she had seen in this man’s eyes. But he opens his mouth, and utters the words, and forces it into reality.

“Is that so,” says Tao Xuan.

“I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” The man turns to look her in the eyes as he says this, but she can only meet his gaze for an instance before looking away. No emotion. Keep it together. She bites her lip to keep it from trembling.

“I know this is not the best time,” the man continues, still speaking directly to her, instead of Tao Xuan. “But now that your situation has changed, you no longer have to stay here. What,” he takes a breath, “What I want to give you is an option. If you would like – if – you can come with me, to the city. I promised to your brother that I would take care of you in his place.”

“Excuse me?” Tao Xuan interjects. “You can’t just – Su Mucheng is a very valuable worker here!

“She is her own person,” the man responds, barely glancing at him. “She can make her own choices.”

Tao Xuan scoffs, but when he turns to her he’s all smiles again. “Mucheng,” he addresses her, “we would all miss you here very much if you left, you know?”

She looks down. “Please give me the night to decide. This is all – very fast.”

“Of course, of course,” Tao Xuan rushes to reassure her. “Take the time. It’s late, you can go off to bed now. This gentleman, you would like to stay here? Ye Xiu, it was?”

Some emotion flickers over the man’s face – fear? Strange, why is he afraid? – but it vanishes quickly, and he nods. Su Mucheng doesn’t stay to witness the rest of the exchange, and all but scrambles up the staircase, to the room she shares with Xu Boyuan, though the room is currently empty, as the other girl finishes up her work.

Su Mucheng shuts the door, throws herself onto the small and bare bed, and curls into a ball. From her pocket she withdraws the letter, and in the dim light from a desk lamp, she reads her brother’s final words to her.

When she finishes, she folds it back up and hugs it to her chest, and it is then that she finally allows the tears to fall.

 

The next morning. “Have you decided?”

“Yes. I will go with Ye Xiu.” This is the conclusion Su Mucheng has reached, after reading her brother’s last letter, after thinking over a sleepless night. She will gain much more from life if she leaves this place, with this man, a man who has managed to earn her brother’s respect.

Tao Xuan is unhappy, but he still gives an empty smile. Xu Boyuan rushes up to her and hugs her tightly, whispering “stay safe,” and Su Mucheng returns the hug and the wish.

Then, Ye Xiu takes her by the hand, and together, they depart for a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you are intrigued! Hopefully, you will like what I do with the various characters in this world. This is still a WIP, so let me know if there’s things you want to see more (or less) of, anyone you’re particularly curious about, etc. 
> 
> @syncogon on tumblr and discord, talk to me, it makes me happy. :)


	2. in the room where it happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lives and storylines intersect, in the greatest city in the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. It's been over a month. But here's an almost 14k chapter to hopefully make up for it?
> 
> Reminder that this fic is NOT entirely sticking to Les Mis canon! Similarly, not all QZGS characters correspond exactly to a specific Les Mis character. Some side plots just kind of... worked their way in.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (also fun fact, the chapter titles are references to other musicals bc... lol)

Ye Xiu and Su Mucheng move to City P, a bustling city that hides many secrets; one more won’t hurt.

As the years pass, Su Mucheng grows up, into a pretty and healthy and intelligent young woman. Ye Xiu now goes by the name Lord Grim, and tries to balance living an inconspicuous life with living a life of helping others. These are two fairly incompatible lifestyles, but he tries. He has to.

There are quite a number of interesting people here, that he ends up helping one way or another. Like when he saves the life of that handsome fellow from an incoming carriage, later discovering that the man is mute. Or when he offers those two youths, runaways, a safe place to stay for a few nights. Without quite meaning to, he makes friends and connections in various circles.

Which is always helpful, of course. But he’s still vigilant for any who might still be trying to hunt him down – he wonders, in particular, about Inspector Han, where he is now, whether or not he’s still looking for him even after all these years…

He probably shouldn’t jinx it.

 

But now, let us leave Ye Xiu and Su Mucheng aside for a moment, and instead turn to another central character in this little play of ours.

This young man has never known his parents, instead growing up with his uncle, who had once been quite famed and skilled, but after irreparably injuring his hands, had been forced to retire from his work. This left him a grumpy and rather stern caretaker of the young boy. Still, the boy didn’t have a bad childhood – despite Uncle Sun’s moods, he took good care of the boy; furthermore, he was rich from his earlier work, and so the boy grew up healthy and in relative comfort.

However, Uncle Sun did not go out much, and only had one regular visitor, a man with long hair in a ponytail who was so energetic that the boy absently marveled at how he had ever become friends with grumpy Uncle Sun. But this visitor couldn’t come by too often. And so, with limited contact with others, and with little personal desire for social interaction, the boy grew to become an almost-silent, antisocial young man. He had few, if any, friends. Not that he minded, personally; he enjoyed being alone.

Now, the young man no longer lives with his uncle – he does attend school, but less to gain knowledge, and more to obtain the small material possessions of his classmates and professors and essentially anyone nearby. He has acquired quite a collection, and quite a reputation for thievery.

This young man’s name, as you may or may not have deduced by this point, is Mo Fan.

 

Pickpocketing is and has always been a favorite past-time of his. But one day, Mo Fan slips up, underestimating his target’s perceptiveness, as well as his speed and strength.

And so, Mo Fan finds himself trapped on the ground, pinned by the other person’s weight and strong grip. He doesn’t bother to struggle, but his eyes are darting around, frantically trying to find a way to escape. He’s uninjured right now, but that could change in an instant.

By all accounts and his own personal observations, this classmate of his, although a giant in size, is an idiot! How did Mo Fan allow himself to get caught so easily by him, of all people? He can’t even remember the last time he had been caught – maybe that allowed him to become too careless. The more he thinks about what happened, the more frustrated he gets, but he forces himself to stay calm as he continues to analyze the situation for a chance of escape. At the same time, he braces himself for the physical punishment to come.

The person has the unquestionable upper hand in this position, but, surprisingly, doesn’t start to beat him up. Instead he simply looks at him, a curious look in his eyes, like a dog investigating a new playtoy. And then Steamed Bun – that’s what everyone calls him, and Mo Fan has never bothered to learn his real name – grins at him, and something about that expression makes Mo Fan’s heart plummet.

“Hey, I know you! Mo Fan, right? You’re pretty sneaky, aren’t ya? Must be a Scorpio, huh? How about you come join us?”

Mo Fan really doesn’t like to talk, but he feels that this situation deserves it. “…What the hell are you talking about.”

“You’ll fit right in! And it’ll be a good use of your time! Much better than whatever you normally do. Come, come, come.” Steamed Bun lifts himself up, but before Mo Fan can take advantage of the opening, there’s a hand around his wrist, and he knows he’s not getting free.

Mo Fan has observed Steamed Bun for a while prior to this endeavor, and has known him in general for even longer, and so he knows that saying “no” to a determined Steamed Bun is a feat which he does not have the energy to pursue. Thus, that afternoon finds him trailing reluctantly along behind the bouncing creature, who leads him along a twisting path of streets until eventually they arrive at a small café, tucked in among the taller buildings surrounding it. It seems well-kept, nothing grand or ostentatious, and Mo Fan can’t help but appreciate that even as he’s brought here mostly against his will.

“Here we are!” declares Steamed Bun. “Café Joyful Flourish, or Happy for short. Headquarters for the Glory Alliance. Let’s go!” And he all but drags the other boy inside.

Although the café seemed relatively out-of-the-way when they had been walking here, the place is rather bustling inside. With a wave at the woman managing the front, Steamed Bun leads Mo Fan through the crowd, up two flights of stairs, through some doors, and eventually into another room. There are tables and chairs scattered about, and people, too, gathered in clusters, eating and chatting. Some of them look up at their arrival and call out cheerful greetings to Steamed Bun. Of course the loud idiot would be popular.

There aren’t too many people here right now, especially compared to the crowd downstairs, and looking around, Mo Fan thinks he might recognize a handful of faces, people that he’s occasionally seen in school, though he certainly doesn’t recall their names.  

One of them comes up to them immediately, a young man in glasses that keep slipping down his face. He’s almost a whole head shorter than Steamed Bun, but that doesn’t stop him from slapping him in the shoulder and scolding, “Steamed Bun, where were you? And what the hell was with that idea you submitted? Please at least _try_ to take this seriously?”

Steamed Bun looks genuinely puzzled. “What are you talking about? I _was_ being serious!”

“They’re not firing _grapes_ at us-” At this point, the young man seems to notice Mo Fan standing awkwardly to the side, and breaks off. “Sorry, hello there,” he says, adjusting his glasses, “and who are you?”

Steamed Bun says brightly, “He tried to rob me, so I invited him here!”

“You _what_?” The young man’s eyes look ready to burst out of his head. He lifts his hands to his face, takes a breath, lets it out, and says, “Okay. Okay, this is fine. Steamed Bun, you are very, very lucky that we trust you. But we need to talk.” He turns and scans the room, and calls out to another young man nearby. “Gao Yingjie! Can you come here for a second?” Said person nods, and begins making his way over.

“Sorry about all of this. I’m Luo Ji, by the way,” the young man says to Mo Fan. “Thanks for coming, Gao Yingjie can tell you more. The meeting will start soon. And you, Steamed Bun, get over here.” With that, and a wave at Mo Fan, Luo Ji pulls Steamed Bun to another part of the room.

Before Mo Fan can even process what just happened, the person Luo Ji had called over was now standing before him. Gao Yingjie is on the tall side, though still not quite Steamed Bun’s height, and he gives Mo Fan a friendly smile.

“Hi there, I’m Gao Yingjie,” he says. “What’s your name?”

“…Mo Fan,” he answers, the first words he’s spoken since he got here. Gao Yingjie seems a little off-put by his surly expression, but he continues with his introduction.

“So, uh, I don’t know what Steamed Bun told you, if anything…” He sees Mo Fan’s blank expression, and continues, “…Right. So, we call ourselves the Glory Alliance, which I know might sound kind of silly, but just bear with it. And as for what we do… Well, I guess we’re kind of a political group. You’ll see, our meeting’s starting in a few minutes, that’s why all of us are here right now. Though a lot of times we just hang out here anyway, so you can always find someone here. You can stay and listen to the meeting, that’d probably be best.

“For now, um, I guess I’ll do some introductions first,” says Gao Yingjie, looking around the room. “Not everyone’s here right now, but if you stick with us, you’ll learn name soon enough.”

He begins to point out a few of the people currently present. “You know Steamed Bun,” Gao Yingjie says. “Kind of a handful sometimes, but he has a great heart and is all in all a good person to have around.”

“Luo Ji, the one talking to him right now, that’s our resident math genius. Just a college student like most of us, but he’s one of the smartest people in the nation.

“Wearing the glasses, that’s An Wenyi – a super logic-driven guy, but he’s always reliable.

“Tang Hao – very energetic, very loyal once you get to know him.”

Mo Fan continues to watch and listen as Yingjie goes around the room, giving brief character summaries of the people currently present. He’s not very good at remembering names, and doesn’t even really try, but he always pays attention to faces, because it could always be useful.

“Sun Xiang…” Here Gao Yingjie pauses after pointing out the person in question, a blond sitting at the corner of the room with a bottle in hand, and the faintest expression of distaste crosses Gao Yingjie’s heretofore gentle expression. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Don’t take anything he says too personally.”

“And Qiao Yifan… our leader’s right-hand man.” Finally, he returns to indicate someone organizing papers near the front of the room. There’s something different about the tone in which Gao Yingjie describes this person, but Mo Fan frankly does not care enough to try and parse it.

At that moment, the door opens again to let someone in. The room quiets down, as though the arrival of this person signals the beginning of something. Unlike pretty much everyone else here, the newcomer is female. With short cropped hair and fierce eyes, she strides to the front room, next to Qiao Yifan, taking her rightful place without hesitation.  

“And that’s Tang Rou,” murmurs Gao Yingjie, gesturing for Mo Fan to take a seat along with everyone else. “Our leader.”

 

From what Mo Fan gathers after that first meeting, this Glory Alliance is apparently a student group that’s plotting to overthrow the government.

Great. Cool. He literally does not care at all about this whole plot or whatever injustices they’re supposed to be protesting or fighting against or whatever. When he leaves the café that day, it’s with zero intention of ever coming back.

But…

He _does_ come back. Without really realizing how or why, he’s back at that café three days later. And two days after that.  

He tells himself it’s only because that obnoxious Steamed Bun knows him now, and would harass him one way or another if he didn’t show his face there again.

But if he’s being honest with himself – a dangerous pastime, yes – he knows that’s not the real reason.

Mo Fan, to this point, has not really lived a noteworthy life. Really, he’s less “lived” life and more “drifted through” life, passively letting things happen to him, just doing the bare minimum to keep himself alive. Even if it wasn’t particularly fulfilling, he’d never really known anything else, and so eating and drinking and sleeping and occasionally pickpocketing was all well and good.

But everyone here… they do what they do with _passion_. To Mo Fan, this had always been some sort of abstract, foreign concept, but these people, they embody it. They’re still young and human, of course, laughing and messing up and joking around, but this passion for what they’re doing is clear in every word they speak, in every action they take.

They live with purpose. They’ve found a cause to live and die for. They’re vibrant and brilliant and overwhelming, and Mo Fan can’t help but be swept up in it all.

At first, he’s just curious, content to observe those who have found this strange passion. Then, he decides he wants to experience that sort of emotion for himself. Maybe, by staying here, he can find some meaning and worth in the silly thing that’s life.

So Mo Fan joins the Glory Alliance, becomes a part of something greater than just himself. Despite his reticence, they accept him quickly – it’s almost like having friends. And, Mo Fan decides, it’s really not all that bad.

 

Over the course of Mo Fan’s time here, their little group grows, more people coming and going, mostly coming. This is a group made to take action, and the time for taking action is soon, he can sense. The Alliance doesn’t plan to content itself with flyers and rallies and speeches. Mo Fan, for his part, mostly helps out with the behind-the-scenes tasks that need to be done – gathering supplies and information.

He doesn’t magically become more of a people-person by being here, but the others get used to his quirks quickly enough, becoming more comfortable with giving him instructions and dragging him into conversations. Though he’s still pretty quiet, he too begins to contribute – the first time he cracked a joke, a casual and automatic insult lobbed at Steamed Bun, there’s a beat of silence before an outburst of laughter. Steamed Bun himself claps a hand on his back, which he endures.

Mo Fan doesn’t bother to keep track of all of the newcomers – if they’re important, he knows he’ll learn them sooner or later – but a few do stick out in his memory. Like that little kid, probably not a day over fifteen, who had enthusiastically latched onto Gao Yingjie of all people, and then the rest of the group, with an energy and spirit that was at once exhausting and invigorating.

And then there was _her_.

If there is a such thing as dislike at first sight, that is definitely what happens here.

Mo Fan is in fact aware of Su Mucheng from school, though this is the first time he’s actually met her. She was one of those radiant types, in every way – personality, beauty, intelligence – and people spoke of her like one would a goddess. Mo Fan always thought it was stupid and ridiculous.

When he first sees her, his first thought is that her hair is the color of a corroded drainage pipe, some weird orange, what the hell. He watches as she exchanges a few words with Tang Rou – it seemed they were friends, or something – and then she turns, and approaches his corner of the room, and Mo Fan knows he’s screwed. Even if he’s better at socializing now, he still has a tendency to distance himself from others, and that means there are lots of empty seats around him.

She sits right next to him, and introduces herself with a sunny smile, and Mo Fan can’t even look at her directly as he grumbles out his name in reply. But instead of being put off by his sullen demeanor, she just continues to smile and says some nonsense about being glad to meet you, whatever.

Mo Fan tries to steal from her.

In retrospect, he doesn’t really know what he was thinking. He’d restrained himself during Alliance meetings, so far, but something about her presence triggered old habits. He knew she was rich, or at least fairly well-off, so it was relatively justified as far as these things go. Maybe he was just particularly annoyed by her presence.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, because she catches him, and stops him. Effectively. Still with that gentle smile all the while, as she twists his wrist and whispers in his ear. It’s all so fast that no one else even notices what happens before she releases him again.

Maybe “terrified” is a strong word, but Mo Fan absolutely has regrets after that. Who knew that this seemingly-shallow young woman could be so scary?

Except, their interactions don’t end there. Su Mucheng isn’t at every meeting, but when she does show up, without fail, she still takes a seat right next to Mo Fan, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. She brings snacks, sometimes, and offers some to him. Sunflower seeds, usually. Mo Fan would ignore the offer, except he does feel a twinge of guilt for what happened that first time, and so he takes a few, and nibbles at them during the meetings.

That’s all. That’s really all there is to it. She’s just another person. Who happens to be absolutely and utterly… His brain tries to supply him with the appropriate adjective, but fails, and he gives up because he really doesn’t want to deal with these stupid…feelings. Disgusting.

He joined the Alliance to find meaning in life. …But sometimes he thinks about her, and wonders if this is what it feels like to live, and not drift through, life.

 

*

Mo Fan’s luck has really been atrocious lately. Maybe this is a sign he should give up his thieving tendencies once and for all.

He doesn’t pickpocket at all anymore, doesn’t have the time – somehow, without his intending to, Alliance work takes up much of his life now. Not to mention the whole disaster that was Su Mucheng and his goddamn feelings.

But the old urge struck him suddenly, and so he finds a target, and carefully begins to follow him, along the streets, patiently waiting for his chance –

– and then suddenly his target turns, a knife in his hand and a dangerous glint in his eyes. By some miracle, Mo Fan doesn’t freeze – time seems to slow down, and he’s already turning away, realizing belatedly that they had ended up in some less-frequented area of town, and _fuck_ –

“This way, dumbass,” he hears a voice from nowhere, sees a silhouette in a side alley. His instincts tell him to follow them, away from the immediate danger of the man with a knife, and so he does.

Several moments of intense sprinting and dodging and twisting follow, through buildings and alleyways. Then, at last, they come to a stop at a more frequented area, and Mo Fan is grateful, because although he has speed he doesn’t have the endurance, and the adrenaline could only carry him so far. His pursuer, fortunately, has been shaken off.

Now, he can get a good look at his savior, who, to his moderate surprise, is a scrawny girl even shorter than himself, probably younger as well, dark blue-ish hair chopped unevenly around her shoulders, worn clothes, sharp eyes. She’s definitely a street rat, he thinks, although she seems better off than many others he’s seen since moving to the city.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she scowls at him. “Pickpocketing some sheltered college kids or whatever the hell you think you do is leagues different from trying steal from a core Tiny Herb! You have no idea who that was, do you? Flying Sword! One of the fastest guys around! Poor young rich boy like you? Any idiot could tell you were out of your depth, and you’re lucky you got out of that in one piece.”

He should probably say something, shouldn’t he? Even if he’s resentful at being saved, at being in someone’s debt. “…Thanks,” he mutters, finally, after her tirade subsides. She’s guessed surprisingly much about him, but he decides not to question it. For her to survive on the street so long, she must be observant.

“You’d better be damn grateful,” she says, although her previous anger has quickly calmed. She sticks out a hand, surprisingly clean. “You can call me Blue River,” she offers. “Of Blue Rain. You?”

Mo Fan hesitates, but accepts the handshake. “…Deception,” he says, the first thing that comes to mind.

“Well then, Deception,” she says, turning to leave, “I hope I never see you again.”

He nods curtly in response, and they part ways.

 

As it happens, this hope does not come true, because ten days later, Blue River finds herself at Café Happy. But before we get there, let us take a few steps back, and see how Blue River – whom we have met as Xu Boyuan, a quiet background girl at Excellent Era Inn – ended up here today.

Though, if you ask her, there isn’t that much to tell. She’s shut away the bulk of it in her memory, because it’s not worth thinking about or dwelling upon. The long and short of it is this: after Su Mucheng left with that man, Excellent Era got… worse, and she escaped to the city.

City street-life dynamics were more complex than she had ever imagined. But she learns fast, because she has to. The scene is dominated by three major teams that keep each in balance: Team Blue Rain, Team Tiny Herb, and Team Samsara, each with its own leadership and style. Then there are other smaller organizations as well, with various specialties.

She spends a few days wandering the streets, then she’s almost killed.

Keyword almost! Because a knight in shining armor – or rather, a chatterbox waving a dangerously large knife – drives off her attacker with a lot of passionate yelling and quick, well-placed movements.

Xu Boyuan hasn’t been in the city long, but she’s heard of this person. One of the most famous in these parts. “You’re… Troubling Rain…?” she asks cautiously, heart still thumping.

“Yeah! That’s me, Sword Saint Troubling Rain, Vice Leader of Team Blue Rain!” The man grins at her, sheathing that knife – thankfully – and helping her up. “Flying Sword has a long way to go if he wants to beat me in a fight. And Tiny Herb’s gonna have to try a lot harder if they want to do anything on our territory. Stupid plants. Say, what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here anyway?”

“Let me join your team.”

Troubling Rain blinks. “Hm?”

“Let me join Blue Rain.” This is much braver and more direct than she’s ever really been, but suffering through a near-death experience does that to you. She is very aware that she can’t survive long like this, with nothing and no one. Today was just further proof of that. But if she were able to join a team…

Troubling Rain looks at her, still with that friendly grin, but his eyes are sharp, calculating. “Well, what do you have to offer us?”

A tense moment. “I…uh…” How does she answer _that_? She has nothing, really…

But Troubling Rain’s expression softens, and he pats her on the shoulder. “It’s fine, I know you’re still in shock from that. You can meet with Leader Swoksaar tomorrow, if you want?” He gives her a time and place, and she nods.

Xu Boyuan doesn’t know what she expected of this leader, but Swoksaar is like any ordinary, vaguely well-off man she might pass on the street. Unremarkable, save perhaps for his unusually warm smile, and the black cane he grips in his hand.

They sit, and they talk, and they reach an agreement. She will look after one of the younger members, a teenaged boy named Lu Hanwen; in return, she will be a part of Team Blue Rain. Of course, not knowing this Lu Hanwen, she has no idea what she’s getting into, but no matter what, she figures it’s better than the alternative, and accepts.

As it turns out, Lu Hanwen isn’t the problem monster child she’d feared. She meets him later that day, and he introduces himself brightly, and asks for her name in turn.

“Xu Boyuan,” she says, and he hums.

“Do you have another name?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I’m Lu Hanwen, but I also go by Flowing Cloud. Troubling Rain’s real name is Huang Shaotian. People generally go by streetnames on jobs and stuff. We usually know real names, but it’s symbolic, you know. Like Vaccaria in Tiny Herb is Wang Jiexi, Cloud Piercer in Samsara is Zhou Zekai… Although, no one knows Leader Swoksaar’s real name, unless Huang Shao does, but he isn’t telling…” Lu Hanwen pauses, then grins sheepishly. “Sorry, sometimes I talk as much as Huang Shao, he’s a bad influence. But anyway, your name?”

“…I don’t know,” she replies. “I’ve never really thought about it…”

“How about Blue River, then?”

She shrugs and accepts it. It’s a simple name, yes, but it’s clean and comforting in its simplicity.

So that’s how it begins, her looking out for Little Lu. At first, it’s just a responsibility, her means of staying alive in this cruel world.

But at some point, it becomes personal.

At some point, between the shared meals and silly games, between keeping him from recklessly challenging the members of other teams, and obtaining milk so that he could grow taller… Lu Hanwen is bright and charismatic and honest and untainted by the world. He is her little brother, and if anything were to happen to him, she – she doesn’t know what she would do.

At some point, without quite realizing it, she begins to value his life more than her own.

Love takes many forms, all of which are powerful, all of which may be deadly.

 

Somewhere in the midst of this glorified babysitting, she discovers Little Lu’s excursions to a certain out-of-the-way café.

In short, Blue River ends up at Happy because Lu Hanwen ends up there. How he ended up there in the first place, she has no idea. To be honest, she’d rather that he didn’t wander off at all – it’d save her some worry, at least. But regardless, she has a job to do, and she’s going to do it well if it’s the last thing she does.

“Please don’t tell anyone that I come here,” Lu Hanwen begs her, when she confronts him about it.

Blue River, who had indeed been planning to do just that – this is probably the kind of thing that Leader and Vice Leader should know, right? – frowns. “Why?”

“I don’t want them to worry about me…”

This seems to her a pretty bad and illogical and also incomplete reason, but Blue River acquiesces, finally. “But that means I’ll have to keep a closer watch on you myself, okay?” And Lu Hanwen nods obediently.

When it came down to it, Blue River simply loves him too much to go against his wishes. She doesn’t say anything to anyone at Blue Rain.

In the beginning, she’s content to just wait outside. But she feels somewhat useless and inadequate doing that, so she eventually hardens her resolve and goes inside.

Upon entering the room in question, she’s greeted by a young man, who asks, “What brings you here today?”

“Not much. I’m with my little brother,” she says. Best to be direct for now. “His name is Lu Hanwen. I heard he’s here often?” He’s in here now, she knows, but he’s small enough that she can’t see him from her current position.

Her statement catches the attention of a few more of the people in the room – some wary, some outright hostile. They’re all older than Lu Hanwen, and a decent number seem older than her, in fact. To her credit, Blue River doesn’t back down in the face of this scrutiny. In the course of her time with Blue Rain, she’s negotiated in plenty of dangerous scenarios before – usually not alone, true, but it’s given her enough experience not to be rattled.

“So what’s your name?”

She pauses. “Um… You can just call me Blue River,” she says. At this point, it’s more natural to her, anyway.

But as soon as those words come out of her mouth, she happens to lock eyes with one person in the room, a startlingly familiar face even after all these years, and before she can stop herself she blurts out, “Mucheng?”

The young woman rises and approaches unsteadily, as though disbelieving of her eyes. “Xu Boyuan… It _is_ you!” Without another word, she launches herself at the other girl, hugging her tight. Blue River, who hasn’t experienced such physical affection in years, is frozen in place, until she finally, tentatively hugs her back.

She hasn’t realized it until now, but she really has missed Su Mucheng. The mere fact of companionship means so much…

Su Mucheng tugs her to the side of the room, and they talk, finally, after so many years of emptiness.

Eventually, Blue River asks, “That man who you left with – are you still with him? That, that Ye…” Everything had happened so quickly back then, Blue River hadn’t even formally met that man – she only remembered snatches of overheard conversation and the vaguest impression of a face.

“Ah, he’s going by Lord Grim now,” says Su Mucheng. “But yes, he took care of me, and I’m still living with him now.”

Blue River nods slowly.

“But how are _you_ doing?” Su Mucheng almost reaches for her hand, but then seems to stop herself, instead just twisting her fingers together. “What happened after… You… I wish you could have come with us.”  

Blue River gives a nervous chuckle, glancing away. “I’m surprised you still remember me, honestly. You seem to be well-off, here.” She can’t be blamed if there’s a tinge of bitterness that creeps into her tone.

Su Mucheng bites her lip. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she hates how empty those words sound.

Blue River shrugs. “It’s alright. It’s in the past, and I’m doing alright now. Now, I just have to make sure Little Lu over there –” she nods toward the boy, who’s energetically chatting in the corner with some of the others “–doesn’t get into too much trouble.” And for now, it’s not too bad. This was the only real job Team Blue Rain had given her, in return for giving her food and shelter and a community – as far as exchanges go, it’s incredibly generous on their part, she knows. She owes Huang Shaotian for saving her life and Blue Rain for preserving it – so if she has only one responsibility to pay it back, she’s going to do it _well_.

“So where are you staying now, then?” asks Su Mucheng.

“Ah…” Blue River is suddenly rather acutely aware that answering that question with the name of one of the biggest criminal teams in the city is probably not the best idea, so she says the first technically true thing that comes to mind. “Nowhere illegal?”

Fortunately, Su Mucheng only giggles at that, instead of pressing for a better answer. “Okay,” she says. “Just –if you ever need help, or a place to stay, or anything, please just ask us, okay?”

“Thank you,” Blue River says, and she means it.

Su Mucheng slides her a scrap of paper on which she has written… something. Her address, presumably. Except…

Blue River’s about to just take it and ask someone later, but some hesitation must have shown on her face, because Su Mucheng says, “Wait. You… you never learned to read or write, right?”

“…Only a little,” Blue River admits quietly. Su Mucheng had been able to since their days at Excellent Era, thanks to her brother’s teachings, but all Blue River knew were the bits and pieces she had gleaned through others.

“Well,” says Su Mucheng, recovering from her hesitation quickly, “we have time here. I’ll help you.”

Blue River would love to learn, has always wanted to, but… “Don’t you – aren’t you busy?” She gestures around at the lively room.

She shrugs. “I’m not really part of this whole Alliance business, I’m just here because Rourou – Tang Rou’s my friend.” She smiles at Blue River. “How about it?”

So, through the meetings, as the people around her plan a revolution, Blue River learns to write.

Su Mucheng isn’t there every day, though. On those days, it’s another that helps her out – Deception, or rather, Mo Fan. With a vaguely embarrassed grumble, he mutters something about a debt, and gives her letters and words to practice.

From the way she’s seen him act around Su Mucheng, Blue River easily guesses there’s another motivation behind it, and she can’t help but laugh. But help is help, and because Mo Fan is the only one here who knows she’s from Blue Rain – and he doesn’t seem to care – he shows her additional useful things.

Su Mucheng teaches her “xu boyuan” and “blue river,” and Mo Fan teaches her “the cops are here.”

 

*

Inspector Han Wenqing is assigned to a senior position in City P.

Contrary to the impression some people probably have, Han Wenqing does not actually spend _all_ his time thinking about the convict he let escape over a decade ago. No, he still has to worry about maintaining justice, catching and correcting all the other wrongs in this world, and he does his job with vigor and single-mindedness.

City P has a thriving underworld, and he’s determined to snuff it out. He’s already had several run-ins with the cores of the various teams, and he knows them by name, knows their characteristics. He knows that Blue Rain is mostly knife-users, that their nameless leader can’t walk without a cane; he knows that Tiny Herb relies on poisons and unconventional tools to cause maximum damage; he knows that Samsara is the newest and most rapidly growing team, using sign language and bullets. And, in turn, Han Wenqing has made a name for himself among them, the most dangerous and tyrannical of all the police officials.

He _will_ bring them down, sooner or later.

He’s also heard of mutterings of a revolution, led by the youth. This he scoffs at – they’re just students, they’re disorganized, it will be easy enough to suppress them.

As for 10137, Ye Qiu… It’s only a matter of time before he’s met with his righteous judgment. Han Wenqing will not rest, will not yield until he sees him in chains once again.

Occupied as he is with all these unsavory elements, Han Wenqing fails to take note of rumors about the mysterious benevolent presence known as Lord Grim.

Later, he’ll look back, and curse himself.    

 

*

It’s just another ordinary meeting day at Café Happy, until it’s not.

“Everyone!” hollers Lu Hanwen, bursting into the room and nimbly leaping onto an empty chair. “Listen everyone!”

There’s many people here today and it’s appropriately noisy, but at his announcement, the room quiets down fast. Blue River slips in behind him, leaning against the wall to catch her breath – she’d been with him when he’d found out the information, and as suited his enthusiastic nature, Lu Hanwen had insisted on sprinting all the way back here to deliver the news.

Once Lu Hanwen is sure that everyone’s eyes and ears are on him and nothing else, he announces into the silence, “Chairman Feng is dead.”

There’s a moment as they absorb this information.

“Chairman Feng is dead,” Tang Rou repeats quietly. It doesn’t come as any great shock – everyone had known of the chairman’s failing health, and it seemed that his heart has finally given out. Nevertheless, the dead deserved their respect, and the various members bow their heads.  

“Chairman Feng… But his death,” she continues, “is the sign we await.” In the midst of the solemn silence, her eyes begin to ignite, and she begins pacing along the front of the room.

“He was the only official to speak on behalf of the poor and the downtrodden. A people’s hero, unlike all the other corrupt cowards in power,” she says. “On his funeral day, they will honor his name. It is then that we can make our move. We will turn the candles of grief into the flames of change – from ashes, the phoenix rises again.”

“Little Lu, do you know when the funeral will be?” asks Qiao Yifan.

“Yeah, I heard seven days from now,” the boy replies confidently.

“Then we’ll be cutting it tight,” mutters Tang Rou. “But this is what we have been preparing all this time for. Now is just the final push.” She straightens, meeting all of the Alliance members in the eye. In such a short time, they’ve grown so much in number.

“There is a lot to be done. Will you join in our fight?” she asks, and is met with narrowed eyes and determined nods.

 

The flurry of activity resumes, Tang Rou and Qiao Yifan taking charge on working out what still needs to be done and delegating members to accomplish them. As usual, Mo Fan watches and waits from the back, knowing that there’ll be something for him to help with soon enough. Su Mucheng isn’t here today – not that it matters to him at all, of course not, that’d be ridiculous – but it means that he has more attention to observe the others.

As he finds himself absently wishing for some sunflower seeds to crack, he suddenly hears a heated shout.

“What the _fuck_ did you mean by that?”

Mo Fan, along with several others, can’t help but jerk around at the sound. Sun Xiang’s on his feet, gripping a bottle in his hand, an ugly scowl on his face.

“I didn’t mean anything!” This comes from a cowering Luo Ji, who’s backing away as rapidly as he can in the relatively cramped space. “I was just – asking – since you know you don’t ever really help out all that much, maybe this would be a good way to make yourself useful-” Luo Ji’s talking himself into a hole here, thinks Mo Fan. And he’s clearly aware of it, judging from that fear and nervousness, so why does he keep babbling? This is why it’s better to talk less.

Sun Xiang continues to advance. The room has gone silent again, but instead of the respectful silence of before, this is nothing but tension. Even Mo Fan, who usually doesn’t care about arguments or drama, begins to feel his heart thudding, his instincts telling him to stay away.

Mo Fan thinks back to what Gao Yingjie had said about Sun Xiang when he first joined – or rather, what he hadn’t said. During Mo Fan’s time here, he had quickly learned what kind of person Sun Xiang was – arrogant, abrasive, rude, loud, drunk more often than not – but as long as you stayed out of his way, it was bearable.

Mo Fan knows why he himself is here at the Alliance, has eventually come to terms with it, but he has yet to figure out Sun Xiang’s reason for joining. The blond’s largest contribution was tossing around insults at the members and the Alliance’s goal – “this is stupid, this is suicidal, this is never going to work, why are you bothering,” so on and so forth. But when met with a “then why don’t you just leave,” he never seemed to have a good answer. And he kept coming back. So, much like a body builds tolerance to alcohol, the Alliance built tolerance to Sun Xiang.

But now…

“So I’m just some kind of street thug to you, then? Huh? Is that it? Some dumbass that just beats people up in alleyways?”

“I just thought – didn’t you use to be in Samsara-”

“If you want someone with those kind of connections, then why don’t you ask _him_?” Sun Xiang stabs a finger, and naturally, everyone swivels their heads to look.

“Ask your Mr. Nice Guy,” Sun Xiang snarls, as Gao Yingjie pales, “or should I say, Mr. _Kind Tree_.”

Mo Fan has no idea what he’s talking about, and judging from the facial expressions of those around the room, he’s not the only one. But he notices little Lu Hanwen’s eyes going wide, Blue River pre-emptively clapping a hand over his mouth. And it doesn’t take a genius to see the effect on Gao Yingjie himself.

It’s not Gao Yingjie that responds. Rather, Qiao Yifan half pushes his friend behind himself, as though protecting him. “Shut the hell up,” he says, voice a deadly calm. It’s the first time Mo Fan has seen this normally gentle and polite young man swear, or exude this aura of anger.

“Or what?” But Sun Xiang only sneers, unfazed. “Like you’re one to talk. You think no one remembers you – well, even a smear of ash makes its dirty mark-”

“You-!”

“That’s _enough_!” Tang Rou slaps a hand on the table, successfully silencing everyone. She makes her way through the crowd to stand before Sun Xiang, as Steamed Bun quietly pulls Luo Ji away.  

She’s over a head shorter than Sun Xiang, but her ferocious glare and sheer presence more than make up for it. “Sun Xiang, I’ve let you be for now,” she hisses. “But this is enough. I do _not_ want to see you back here until you change your attitude. Understand?”

For half a second Mo Fan thinks that Sun Xiang is straight-up about to punch her – not that that’s particularly worrisome, because he’s seen Tang Rou fight before, and she’s perfectly capable of defending herself.

But Sun Xiang’s response is rather subdued, all things considered. He slouches and leaves the room without another comment.

Tang Rou looks to Gao Yingjie and Qiao Yifan next; the latter is rubbing his friend’s back in a comforting way. “Are you alright?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” says Gao Yingjie. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about me.” He hesitates, then adds, “But – if you do need me to – get supplies or weapons or whatever – I’ll do it, it’s no big deal.”

“Yingjie-” Qiao Yifan begins, eyes flashing with concern.

“It’s fine,” Gao Yingjie insists. “I want to help. Besides, he’s not _really_ mad at me.”

Qiao Yifan doesn’t look at all reassured, but he lets it go. Under Tang Rou’s lead, activity picks up again soon enough, and the incident is pushed to the back of people’s minds – there is, after all, much to be done.

As Mo Fan waits for something to help with, his eyes sweep the room again, and he absently notes that Lu Hanwen and Blue River have, at some point, slipped out of the room.

 

“Why’d you cover my mouth like that?” Lu Hanwen complains, later, as they make their way home. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say!”

“I knew you were going to blurt out _something_ ,” says Blue River. “We don’t need them to know we’re Blue Rain.”

“Does it matter? I don’t think they’d care. They’re fighting for the oppressed – we’re pretty oppressed, I’d say.”

“Better safe than sorry,” she answers. This is something she knows all too well. “So tell me, what was up with all that, anyway? Who’s Kind Tree…”

“Oh yeah! So…” Lu Hanwen lowers his voice conspiratorially, and Blue River has to lean down a bit to hear him. “You know how Leader and Vice Leader are kind of raising me to take over Blue Rain when I’m old enough?”

Blue River nods. Even if they didn’t know where he came from, everyone in Blue Rain knows that this smart and skilled and energetic boy was being carefully groomed for a leadership position.

“Well, Kind Tree of Tiny Herb was in the same position,” Lu Hanwen continues. “Their Leader One-Eye – er, Vaccaria – was specially training him, put all his effort into that. And then…”

“And then?”

“And then Kind Tree ran away.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. He had a row with his leader, maybe because the pressure got to him? He was a very nice guy, gentle, skilled in many areas but not super cut out for this life in terms of personality. Plus, he had a really close friend who left Tiny Herb earlier.” Lu Hanwen gives Blue River a half-apologetic smile. “That might be why Leader put you on this job, they’re worried about me running off like that – but I would never, Blue Rain is and always will be my home.

“But damn…” Lu Hanwen shakes his head. “I had no idea _Gao Yingjie_ was Kind Tree. No one knew Kind Tree’s real name, Tiny Herb was careful about that… I mean, knowing Gao Yingjie now, I can kind of see why he left, but still… No wonder that was so upsetting. And I guess if Qiao Yifan was his friend… But how did Sun Xiang know, then? And why did he get so upset in the first place anyway? Did Samsara kick him out or something?”

Blue River hums as Lu Hanwen rambles on in a Huang Shaotian-esque fashion. She has no idea, either; this level of maneuvering is all too far above her. “How do you know all about this, anyway?” Blue River asks. Word spreads easily on the street, she knows, but this level of detail doesn’t sound like it would be widely known.

“Well, Leader and Huang Shao talk about it sometimes, and Xiaobie told me a lot – shit.” A guilty look comes over his face, but it’s too late – Blue River hears and latches onto mention of that name.

“Xiaobie – you mean _Liu Xiaobie_? Flying Sword of Tiny Herb?” Blue River still doesn’t really know the real names of the various core members of Samsara or Tiny Herb – she only really knows her fellow Blue Rain at this point – but this is one name she does know, and isn’t likely to forget. Flying Sword was half the reason she was at Blue Rain right now, after all. If it hadn’t been for Huang Shaotian saving her back then, she’d be dead on the street.

“Uh…” Lu Hanwen chuckles nervously. “Maybe? Please don’t tell anyone!” he adds hastily, seeing her stormy expression. “Or at least not Huang Shao, he’d kill me – or actually he’d kill him, probably – or actually he’d probably kill him anyway if he ever got the chance…”

Blue River sighs. Lu Hanwen is wonderful and she loves him dearly, but sometimes being his babysitter is… “Fine,” she says, resigned. It was just one more secret. “How did you even become friends, anyway?”

“Knife fight,” Lu Hanwen answers casually, and Blue River decides she really doesn’t want to learn more.

 

*

“Oh? Mumu, what are you still doing here?” Tang Rou hadn’t expected there to be anyone at the café when she arrived back from one of her many tasks; it’s getting late, after all, and she herself only planned to stay for a brief while to finish something up before heading home. But to her surprise, Su Mucheng is sitting there in the upstairs room, despite her not being a core member of the Alliance.

The other woman grins helplessly and raises a finger to her lips. It’s then that Tang Rou sees that Su Mucheng isn’t alone – curled up in the seat next to her is none other than Mo Fan. He’s completely slumped over to the side, almost horizontal to the ground, with his head resting in Su Mucheng’s lap.

Tang Rou raises an eyebrow. It takes all her willpower not to laugh aloud at the sight – Mo Fan’s position is really quite ridiculous, and doesn’t look all that comfortable. But overall, it makes for an adorable scene.

“So, how did this come about?” she asks, quiet so as not to wake him. She takes a seat at the table, not directly next to Su Mucheng, but one spot further down to give them space.

“Well,” says Su Mucheng, “I’m not really sure. The others were all talking about logistics for something or another, joking around at the same time, you know how they are –” Tang Rou nods with a helpless smile “– and Mo Fan was quiet the whole time like he usually is, so it didn’t seem like there was anything unusual. But then all of a sudden he was leaning against my shoulder, completely passed out.”

“And then?”

Su Mucheng shrugs a little. “Eventually everyone else went home, but I didn’t want to move and wake him. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to be right now. So, here I am.”

“Didn’t you say he fell asleep on your shoulder?” Tang Rou asks cautiously, because Mo Fan’s head is definitely _not_ on her shoulder right now.

“Yes, but then my shoulder started to hurt, and he was slipping down anyway. So I readjusted. This is better for both of us, don’t you think?”

Tang Rou shakes her head with a smile. “When he wakes up…”

Su Mucheng gives a grin that is positively wicked. “I’m sure he’ll survive the shock.” Her gaze takes on a fonder look as she considers the sleeping form of Mo Fan. “He’s strong, after all.”

“He is,” Tang Rou agrees. “More so than he first appears.” She takes a pen and paper from her bag, and begins to write, with quick and sharp strokes.

Su Mucheng watches her movements, listening to the scratching of the pen. “All of you are working so hard,” she murmurs.

Tang Rou nods. “We have to. Only a few days left until the Chairman’s funeral. This is our one and only chance.” Her voice, as always, is filled with nothing but courage and determination and resolve.

But Su Mucheng worries, because what the Alliance is trying to accomplish is a dangerous endeavor, with a low chance of success. She hasn’t fully joined them, but she fears for them, fears for what they’re going to face, fears that they might not all make it through to the end. It is this fear that invades her dreams at night, right alongside the image of her brother’s retreating back, the last she ever saw of him; right alongside the image of Ye Xiu one day vanishing without a trace.

She can’t be left behind again.

But in the end, she only says to Tang Rou, “Don’t push yourself too much. You especially, you’re taking on a lot as the leader.”

“Mm.” But both of them know that Tang Rou would never slow down, not when there was a challenge to be overcome.

They sit there in silence for a while longer, as Tang Rou continues to scribble on the sheet of paper. More notes for planning, or another speech, perhaps. It’s too far away for Su Mucheng to see clearly, and so she contents herself with gently running a hand through Mo Fan’s hair, careful not to wake him. It’s surprisingly soft to the touch, almost fluffy, and she smiles to herself. Asleep, he looks so gentle, a sharp contrast from his normal unapproachable aura.

“It’s like you’re petting a cat,” Tang Rou notes, glancing up. Su Mucheng stifles a giggle.

“You’re not wrong, he _is_ kind of like a cat,” she says. “All cold and aloof on the outside, but he keeps coming back. Even if he doesn’t like showing it, he cares. About your cause, and all of you.”

“Yes,” Tang Rou agrees, smile turning wistful. “He’s changed a lot since he first joined us. You know he ended up here only because Steamed Bun made him? He didn’t say anything, and I was so sure that after that first time, I’d never see him again. But then, without a word, he’s at the next meeting. And I was hesitant to ask him to do anything at first, but soon enough he was doing what needed to be done, without a word.”

Tang Rou pauses, and half-mutters, “Now, if only I could say that about everyone here…”

It takes Su Mucheng a second to react, because everyone at the Alliance is working hard, no? They joke around, sure, but they all care about the cause…

But, running through the faces she’s seen in her drop-by visits these past few weeks, she reacts quickly enough. “Sun Xiang?” At Tang Rou’s nod, Su Mucheng’s mouth twists. She’d never had a good impression of the blond – he was arrogant, self-centered, and irritatingly cynical, never afraid to voice his loud disparaging opinions.

“You know what happened the other day?” says Tang Rou.

“Mo Fan told me, yes.”

Tang Rou smiles, despite herself. “You can get him to talk that much?”

“It takes some coaxing. But don’t change the subject – Sun Xiang still came back after that?”

Tang Rou nods. “I have no idea why. But at least he’s a little better now, quieter. I don’t think that incident will repeat itself, so we don’t have reason to kick him out.”

“Why is he even still here?” Su Mucheng wonders aloud. “Does he even care about this at all?”

“I don’t know either,” admits Tang Rou. “He’s not really friends with anyone, and I can’t tell if his comments are his true thoughts or just his way of riling everyone up. Well,” she pauses, “I can say that it works on that front. Sometimes he ends up motivating everyone to work even harder. I don’t know if he means to.”

She sighs. “The whole thing the other day started because Luo Ji said something about how he used to be in Samsara. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but that’s no reason to blow up like that, we wouldn’t have treated him any different. I wish I knew what his problem was. If only he’d stop being such a – such a damn walnut for two seconds…”

“Mm…” Su Mucheng still doesn’t think Sun Xiang is worth keeping around, but in the end it’s not her call.

Eventually, Tang Rou finishes writing, tucking paper and utensil back into her bag. “Well,” she says, standing up – the chair is pushed back carefully so it doesn’t scrape against the ground – “I’ll see you later, then? Don’t stay too late, the café boss might get annoyed, and you need to get some rest.”

Su Mucheng nods. “Same to you. See you later.”

Tang Rou shuts the door behind her, and then it’s just her and Mo Fan.

There is so much going on, so much that she needs to think about, and do. But for now, Su Mucheng contents herself with the peace of this moment.

 _Do you know_ , she thinks, continuing to run her hand through Mo Fan’s black locks of hair, _that I might be a little bit in love with you._

 

Mo Fan wakes up.

It was probably the nicest sleep he’s had in a while, so it takes him a longer amount of sleep-hazed processing than usual to realize the position he’s in.

And.

He is.

 _Mortified_.

He bolts upright immediately, steam probably spitting out of his ears, and he would have sprinted out of the room that instant but Su Mucheng, terrifying demon that she is, catches his wrist.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” she asks him innocently, as though she doesn’t know exactly what this is all doing to him. He would jerk his arm away, but for some reason it’s gone completely weak now of all times, and he can only stand there helpless as she takes a step closer. There’s no one else here.

She smiles up at him, and he wants to die.

“You must be really tired these days, running around all the time for the Alliance. You should get home.” She tilts her head, a few strands of hair falling across her forehead. “And you look kind of flushed, you’re not getting a cold, are you?”

“…I’m fine,” he mutters, trying to look anywhere but her face, distractingly close to his own. Yes, death sounds really appealing right about now.

She giggles. “Here, I’ll walk home with you.” She cheerfully takes his stunned silence as agreement, sliding her grip down from his wrist to his hand. It’s such a casual movement that it takes Mo Fan a second to register what happened, and when he does, he lets out a sort of strangled yelp that he quickly clamps down and that Su Mucheng, thankfully, doesn’t hear.

But during the entire walk home, Su Mucheng slowly manages to coax multi-word responses from Mo Fan as he allows himself to relax in her company. And though her grip on his hand is plenty loose, Mo Fan doesn’t pull his hand away, not until they have to part ways.

She turns to him, the scattered shadows of the streetlamps falling across her bright smile. “Good night, Mo Fan,” she says.

And she leans forward, and before he can react, lands a kiss right on his cheek, just the lightest brush of lips on his skin.

She’s gone before he can say anything – not that he could think of anything to say, anyway. He walks the rest of the way home in a daze, and it’s quite a while before he manages to fall asleep that night.

 

*

Blue River has been with Team Blue Rain for a period of time now, so she has a fairly good idea of how the team functions on a day-to-day basis. It’s nothing unusual for her to be standing here now, watching from the side as Leader Swoksaar negotiates information from one of their most frequent messenger-informants – Life Extinguisher.

Life Extinguisher brings news of a job for Blue Rain, which is typical enough. Except this time it _is_ unusual. Because this client’s target is Lord Grim. The one who’s earned quite a reputation just by somehow knowing and helping everyone.

And for Blue River, there’s more. Su Mucheng’s voice is clear in her head. _Ah, he goes by Lord Grim now…_

The man who had “rescued” Su Mucheng from Excellent Era all those years ago. That was Lord Grim. Blue River remembers that day very vividly, because it marked the last day where she had had a somewhat bearable life there. After that man had taken away Su Mucheng…

Blue River shakes herself, forcibly dragging herself back into the present, just in time to listen to Leader continue to speak.

“Do you have any additional information?” Swoksaar asks.

Life Extinguisher shrugs. “Just one small thing. Level 2.”

Swoksaar gestures, and Blue River steps forward with the appropriate payment for that level of information. It’s a common way for Blue Rain to gather intelligence – and in this world, information really is power.  

After taking the payment, Life Extinguisher says, “My next stop is to Team Samsara, with the same offer for the same job.”

Swoksaar hums. “Interesting… We’ll be in contact with you shortly.” Life Extinguisher nods, and the messenger takes his leave, escorted by a Blue Rain member.

“So, Leader, your orders?” Huang Shaotian prompts, as soon as he’s gone. Swoksaar is silent for a few moments longer, tapping his cane against the ground.

“Lord Grim has really made a stir,” Swoksaar muses aloud. “If the rumors are to be believed that he saved Cloud Piercer, I don’t believe Samsara will refuse the job. They will also be very interested to learn more about him, but because they wouldn’t wish him harm, they might sabotage the job. As for whom they’ll send… Empty Waves, probably. Possibly not Cloud Piercer, if he has personal investment in this. One of the other core members, then.”

“What about Tiny Herb?” Huang Shaotian asks.

“If this client has any brains at all, he extended the offer to them as well. But if they had any chance of accepting, then Life Extinguisher, knowing him, would have included that in his list of information for sale. For whatever reason, it’s reasonable to assume that Tiny Herb will not participate. Not to mention, they’ve been in turmoil lately…” he trails off, before refocusing.

“So, Shaotian,” he says, “I want you and Bullet Rain to go.”

“Yes, Leader!” Huang Shaotian grins. “This sounds like it’ll be fun!”

“And don’t antagonize Samsara too much, if they’re there.”

“Hey hey hey what’s that supposed to mean, what are you talking about? I’m always a very nice person to everyone, you know me!”

The corner of Swoksaar’s mouth twitches, but then, his gaze flickers to Blue River, and she jumps. His smile is kind as ever, but his eyes are intense and scrutinizing. “Blue River,” he says, “would you like to go along as well? It could be a good experience for you.”

It’s the first time she’s ever been offered part of a job like this. Does he know that she has a connection to Lord Grim? There’s no way, but… sometimes, Swoksaar seemed to know everything.

Blue River swallows, and nods. “Sure.”

Why did she agree? What difference would it make if she was there? This was a dangerous game she was playing here, one where everyone else was more capable than she was. But at the same time, she couldn’t simply _ignore_ this whole thing. Not when she knew the people involved.

“Good. Shaotian will tell you more of the details later, but for now, you may go,” Swoksaar dismisses her, clearly intending to further speak privately with his vice-leader.

Blue River doesn’t need to be told twice. She sketches a short bow and hurries out of the room.

 

Huang Shaotian is all seriousness when he briefs her later, and he keeps his talkative habit to a minimum, sticking to the important points as he outlines the plan and the timeline. The client is taking advantage of Lord Grim’s supposed goodwill to lure him to an old building, where they’ll attack him and extort him for money.

“This is supposed to be a straightforward job,” he says, “but I have a feeling about this Lord Grim. We all know him, but we know nothing about him, so this could get complicated. Especially with Samsara thrown into the mix, too.

“No matter what, stay safe, Blue,” Huang Shaotian emphasizes. “No matter what happens, don’t show yourself, and don’t interfere. Zheng Xuan-” he slaps a hand on the shoulder of Bullet Rain, who slouches under the touch, “-and I can take care of ourselves. We all look out for each other, of course. But you need to put yourself first, because ultimately, no one else is going to.” He flashes her a grin that’s meant to be reassuring. “Got it?”

Bullet Rain’s demeanor is lethargic, as is apparently typical of this core member of Blue Rain, but even he adds, “Don’t let the pressure get to you.”

Everything’s happening so quickly – the job is scheduled for that night, leaving her no time to try and get a warning to Su Mucheng. But even if Blue River did have that time, would she? Would she betray her team’s trust like that? She fails to reach a conclusion.

It doesn’t matter for too long, because soon enough, it’s time. With her knife sheathed but at the ready, Blue River follows her seniors to the location. The other two will enter the building, coordinate with the client, as well as Samsara if they show up, to carry out the task. She, meanwhile, will keep watch from the outside.

And so, alone with her tumultuous thoughts, she settles in to wait.  

 

“Lord Grim, sir, my name is Qiu Fei. Please, I’ve come to you to ask for help.”

Ye Xiu has long ago learned to trust his instincts, and he has a bad feeling about this. Not from the boy Qiu Fei himself, no – he’s clearly in bad condition; he’s not lying when he says that he needs money for his family.

But there’s something about the whole scenario doesn’t sit well with him. And if he studies this Qiu Fei closely, there’s the desperation, yes, but there’s a faint shade of guilt there too.

Qiu Fei is asking for money, and asking that Lord Grim visit their home to see their poor living conditions for himself. And Ye Xiu will agree, because he won’t stand by while someone is in need. Whether or not this boy is actively involved in a plot against him, his situation is unfortunate enough to make Ye Xiu’s heart twist in sympathy.

But he _is_ keenly aware that he is likely walking right into a trap. He doesn’t know who’s behind it – he’s made many friends through his good acts in City P, but he’s sure he has his enemies as well. And so, he makes appropriate preparations. Plans, setups, contingencies.

The meeting is set for that night. Ye Xiu gives Su Mucheng a hug – “I’ll be back before midnight, don’t wait for me” – and follows Qiu Fei to the location.

 

As expected, it’s a trap. And while Ye Xiu is good, but he’s not good enough to fight off four core members of the powerhouse underground teams. Not physically, anyway.

“Hey, Empty Waves, right? How’s your leader doing?” Ye Xiu aims his best disarming smile at the man he now knows as Vice Leader of Team Samsara. He recalls the day he’d saved that mute man from the runaway carriage, back when he’d only been in the city for a short while yet. This “Empty Waves” before him now had been the one to thank Ye Xiu. He’d explained that his companion was mute, and the two of them had exchanged a rapid signed conversation before departing. It was only later, when Ye Xiu learned more about the underworld teams of City P, that he’d realized just whom exactly he’d saved.

As for the others here, Ye Xiu recognizes the Vice Leader of Blue Rain, with that gleaming long blade. He doesn’t know the other two, but they’re probably also from Samsara or Blue Rain.

“You know, I’m surprised he’s not here today,” Ye Xiu continues idly, after no acknowledgement. When he’s nervous, he talks, because it helps. “I know that out of the three teams, Cloud Piercer does the most work on the street, whereas Swoksaar is crippled and Vaccaria-”

“Oi, what the fuck did you just say about our leader?!” Troubling Rain doesn’t let him finish his thought about Tiny Herb’s leader – he immediately latches on to the jab at Blue Rain and loyally defends his leader. “I’ll have you know, he could still kick your sorry ass any day of the week –”

“Well, good thing it’s nighttime, then.” Ye Xiu has had many years to hone his wit, thanks in no small part to verbal sparring with Old Han, and so his replies are automatic as he analyzes the situation. Even as he cultivates a casual, indifferent air, he’s scanning for some kind of clue, anything that he could use to his advantage.

He does have something like a secret weapon, that he had set up earlier before arriving at this location. But hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. That would be like bombing a whole building with himself still inside…

Troubling Rain bristles at Ye Xiu’s simple retort, but Empty Waves cuts in, “Our client simply wants to have a friendly discussion with you. Do not worry,” he adds, “no one should come to harm tonight.”

“Hm.” That’s a wonderfully ambiguous statement that could be interpreted any number of ways. So whose side are these people on, then? Ye Xiu can’t tell for sure. His captors are very clearly armed.

“Then you won’t mind if we tie you down?” says Empty Waves. “Simply for appearances, you see.”

Ye Xiu smiles wryly. “Of course not. It’s just a friendly discussion, right?”

“Glad you understand.”

After Ye Xiu is restrained to the chair in the room, Empty Waves tells him, “The client should be arriving right about now, so sit tight.” It seems like he’s the de facto leader of this little quartet, even if he and Troubling Rain are equal in rank.

Ye Xiu shrugs and waits. The knots seem fairly secure at first, but if he wriggles for a while, he thinks he’ll be able to escape them without too much difficulty. He begins preparing for a fast escape, if necessary, while at the same time wondering what all of this is even about.

A minute or two later, the door opens. Ye Xiu looks up automatically at the client’s arrival, and his gut twists.

Tao Xuan.

 

“Hello, Lord Grim,” Tao Xuan says, wearing a meaningless smile. “How are you doing tonight?”

“I’m doing alright. Could be better. Could use a stretch, these bones are getting old,” replies Ye Xiu, even as his mind races. He’s only met this man once, but that one meeting was enough to imprint this name and face upon his memory. Tao Xuan, former owner of Excellent Era Inn, now here. Judging from appearance and clothing, he’s definitely worse off now than he was then, but Ye Xiu has no idea what would have caused him to reach this sorry state.

“Alas, time consumes all, in the end,” says Tao Xuan.

When it’s obvious that Tao Xuan doesn’t plan on continuing immediately, Ye Xiu prods him. He’s always preferred directness in his interactions with people. “So, what do you want from me, then?”

“Money. Reparations. Failing that, your blood.”

Ye Xiu sniffs. “How crude.”

“It is what I am owed.”

“My wealth wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter,” says Ye Xiu, finally letting a hint of irritation slip into his voice. Was this Tao Xuan really that entitled? “I’ve worked hard to get here; I’ve endured much to reach this point.”

“So have I! So has everyone!” snaps Tao Xuan. “We’re not all genius talents like _you_.”

“So you would cut me down to make yourself feel better?”

“Exactly.”

It’s at this point that Ye Xiu realizes there’s no use in reasoning with this man. His heart is set on this illogical mission – there’s no saving him now.

“In particular,” Tao Xuan continues, pacing, “I am here to collect what I am due from _you_. Do you know who I am, Lord Grim?”

…Oh.

Ye Xiu had kind of assumed that Tao Xuan was just attacking Lord Grim because Lord Grim was rich. He’s realizing now that this is an attack specifically directed at himself. That… does not bode well. Was this guy still mad about how he took away Su Mucheng?

At the sides of the room, the four shadows watch and listen, silent witnesses to the drama unfolding before them. Ye Xiu glances at them, then back to Tao Xuan.

“I’m afraid you are mistaken,” he replies evenly. “I’ve not met you before.”

“Am I?” Tao Xuan laughs. “You haven’t covered your tracks quite as well as you’d like. Interesting and rather pretentious name you’ve chosen for yourself this time, Lord Grim. Or should I say, Ye Xiu… or rather, _Ye Qiu_.” He traces a finger deliberately across the front of Ye Xiu’s shirt, just above where the prisoner brand lies.

Well, fuck.

It’s all Ye Xiu can do not to flinch. “You know nothing about me,” he lies, trying to remain calm despite the pounding of his heart. At the same time, he thinks back to that day at Excellent Era Inn – he had given his real name then, because news of what happened at the courthouse hadn’t spread yet, and he needed Su Mucheng to believe him. And now, that decision is coming back to bite him.

“Oh? So, perhaps, if I were to send one of these fine gentlemen over to your residence,” says Tao Xuan, a mocking smile curving his lips, “you’re saying that he _wouldn’t_ find a young woman there, a pretty thing, anxiously waiting for her guardian to come home, just like she waited for a brother who was never going to return–”

“ _How dare you._ ”

A snarl of cold fury. Tao Xuan takes a step back involuntarily, for the man they have bound glares at them with eyes aflame; with that aura of strength and rage, he seems ready to snap the ropes like flimsy threads and fight them all at once – and win.

Ye Xiu isn’t finished. “I once promised to live a life of goodness. But lay a hand on Su Mucheng,” he says quietly, a faint tremor betraying the roiling anger beneath, “and I swear, I will make your life a living hell.”

Silence. Even though it’s five against one, even though the five are armed, even though the one is bound to the chair and surrounded – there’s the distinct feeling that the five are mere foolish prey animals, and the one bound is the true predator among them.

“Damn,” mutters Troubling Rain, fidgeting with his knife, “you should join Blue Rain, we could use someone like you.”

 

Outside, Blue River keeps watch in the darkness.

She can’t hear what’s going on inside from her position – even outside the cracked-open window, the distance is too great – but her imaginings are more than enough to make her heart tremble. Su Mucheng, and Tao Xuan, and this mysterious Lord Grim…

She isn’t afraid for Troubling Rain and Bullet Rain – they’re skilled, far more than she could ever hope to be, and she trusts in their ability to get out of any situation. But she _is_ afraid for the man they have taken prisoner.

She has every right to resent Lord Grim, of course, for taking away Su Mucheng and indirectly forcing her into the life she’s in now. She shouldn’t care about what happens to him.

But…

Are they going to kill him? Death isn’t typically Team Blue Rain’s style, but nothing about this situation is conventional. Then what would happen to Su Mucheng? She had been nothing but kind during their time together – how would this affect her?

Blue River can’t just stand by and let this happen. But in the end, she’s just Blue River, a lowly Blue Rain grunt tasked with lookout – can she interfere with this operation? Does she have the ability? The right?

In the midst of her agonized deliberation, sudden movement catches her eye. She squints in the darkness, and from her hidden lookout, she finally makes out whole squadron of guards, approaching the building, spreading out, quiet in their movements.

Something must have led the police to this location at this time. Running through quick mental calculations, she realizes that they’ll be at the room in question in under two minutes. She pats her pockets instinctively, where she finds a scrap of paper, and remembers what it was from. Sunny afternoons at a café table…

She crumples it up, ventures out of her hiding place, tosses it through the open window to the room in question, scurries away to safety –

It’s weak, and it’s all she can do. She has never been anything more than a weakling. She can only hope that her Blue Rain brothers and the gentleman will make it out safely.

 

In the middle of the tense stand-off, the rolled-up ball of paper hits Bullet Rain’s foot, and in an uncommon burst of motivation, he plucks it from the ground and unfolds it. “Everyone,” says Bullet Rain, displaying the paper so that the others can see, “we might want to get out of here.”

THE COPS ARE HERE - BR

“Fuck,” Troubling Rain says immediately, squinting at the letters. “Fuck, I told her to stay safe… Whatever, let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

“Through the window,” Tao Xuan says, reacting quickly. “Leave the old man tied up here, a present for the cops and a distraction for us.”

The duo from Samsara is already a step ahead, though. Empty Waves has produced a rope ladder, and he and his teammate Cold Moon quickly fasten it to the window. As soon as that’s done, Tao Xuan rushes toward the window first.

But Huang Shaotian pulls him roughly back. “Oy! Who said you useless piece of trash could escape here first! It was one of ours that gave us the warning! The hell do you think you’re doing!”

“We don’t have time to be arguing about this,” says Empty Waves, grabbing Troubling Rain in turn. “We have to get out of here.”

“So back off and let us Blue Rain go first like it should be – Cold Moon, the fuck!” Troubling Rain scrambles to stop Cold Moon, who has taken the chance in the scuffle to squeeze his way in front of the window.

“Let go of me!” yells Cold Moon. “Does it really matter! It’s our ladder anyway!”

“Yes of course it matters-”

“Huang Shaotian, calm down!” says Empty Waves, invoking the man’s real name out of frustration – but hearing his name coming from a member of a rival team only irritates him further.

“What the fuck did you call me, who do you think you are!”

“This is too stressful,” mutters Bullet Rain, to the side.

“What do you want us to do, then?” scoffs Cold Moon. “Draw lots from a hat?”

“Would you like mine?” A new voice from the doorway.

Everyone spins. Inspector Han Wenqing has his hat in his hand, and holds it out to them with a terrible smile.

 

Their weapons are in their hands in an instant, mostly blades of various sizes, though Bullet Rain draws a pistol.

Yet Han Wenqing calmly puts his hat back on and advances into the room, ignoring the weapons aimed at him. His hands are empty, yet the men shuffle backward uneasily. Outside, they can see several more guards posted at the doorway. “There are five of you, and many more of us, both inside and outside this building,” Han Wenqing says, almost conversationally, as he looks at each of them in turn. “You will not leave through the window, but through the door, with us, in handcuffs.”

There is something in Han Wenqing’s manner that prevents any argument – this is simply how he is, how he always has been. Bullet Rain is the only one immediately in range to attack, but he hesitates. The pistol lowers. “So stressful,” he grimaces. “Of course it has to be Old Han…”

Troubling Rain scoffs, but he makes no move either. Inspector Han Wenqing is a name and face too familiar, too dreaded, to all in their line of work here in this city.

But Tao Xuan refuses to give in so easily. He snatches the pistol that hangs limply in Bullet Rain’s hand and aims it right at the inspector. “Let us go,” he yells, with the confidence of a man who is in over his head, but doesn’t know it yet.

“Come now, don’t fire. You’ll misfire,” says Han Wenqing, a mere three paces away from the barrel, yet still unperturbed.

Tao Xuan pulls the trigger.

The pistol misfires.

He hardly has time to register this fact before a fist sends him crumpled to the ground.

Taking in this scene, Empty Waves is the next to move, but not to attack – he merely drops his blade. “We surrender,” he says, and after he makes a series of subtle gestures in view of his partner, Cold Moon follows suit. The Blue Rain duo nods agreement as well, relinquishing their weapons. Better surrender now to this inspector’s face, and escape later when an opportunity shows.

Under the inspector’s orders, a squad rushes in and handcuffs all five of them, including the prone figure of Tao Xuan on the ground. When it’s done, Han Wenqing steps closer to the remaining four, to each of them in turn, steady, deliberate.

“Good evening, Jiang Botao,” he says to Empty Waves.

To Cold Moon: “Good evening, Du Ming.”

To Troubling Rain: “Good evening, Huang Shaotian.”

To Bullet Rain: “Good evening, Zheng Xuan.”

“Fuck you, aren’t you getting too old for this?” This is Huang Shaotian, alias Troubling Rain, still defiantly talkative even after surrendering.

The inspector ignores him, gaze falling instead upon the bound prisoner in the room, who has said nothing, and who hangs his head down.

“Untie this gentleman,” he orders. He himself, meanwhile, seats himself at the table, where the candle still glows. From a pocket he draws paper and writing materials, and right there, in the dingy room filled with policemen and criminals, he calmly begins to draft his report.

After finishing the first few lines, he lifts his eyes. “Let the gentleman who had been bound step forward.”

The policemen glance around, and the inspector’s face takes on a terrifying frown. “Where is he?”

Gone. He has taken advantage of the confusion and the crowd and the darkness. One of the guards rushes toward the window and looks outside – no one there, but the rope ladder is still shaking.

Han Wenqing gives a wordless growl. “Take the rest of them in,” he snaps, folding his report away. “We’ll question them later.”

The one who runs first has the most to hide. And Han Wenqing, feeling his memories stir, has his suspicions.

 

Ye Xiu has never been a religious man, but he sends prayers to whatever gods may be as he escapes.

At the time, he hadn’t thought it was that much of a risk to set up an anonymous tip at the police. The plan was that if he did fall into trouble, at least there’d be some kind of help arriving eventually.

But he hadn’t realized that of all the who-knows-how-many policemen in City P, it’d be _goddamn Han Wenqing_ who showed up. Was this fate or something? And after Ye Xiu had taken such pains to hide himself, too…

Ye Xiu mutters curses as he quickly makes his way back home. He’s gotten careless.

Running away like that was risky and would draw suspicion, he knows, but it’s better than staying there and letting Old Han recognize him. With how dark and chaotic it was back there, Ye Xiu doubts Old Han was able to get a good look at his face.

But still. Tao Xuan had figured out an alarming amount about his past. If they question Tao Xuan thoroughly after having apprehended him, if Old Han is able to connect the dots…

Ye Xiu knows, he needs to act fast. At the very least, he and Su Mucheng need to move houses, ideally out of this city.

As he begins planning what needs to be done, he reaches home without incident, where an anxious Su Mucheng rushes to embrace him.

“I thought I told you to go to sleep,” Ye Xiu chides her gently.

“Actually, you only said not to wait for you,” she informs him with a grin. “I was just sitting awake pondering my life choices.”

Ye Xiu snorts. “Okay, okay, you win. Go to sleep now, Mucheng. You can think more tomorrow.”

Su Mucheng obediently trails back to her room. But beneath the smile, her heart twists with guilt. Tomorrow… tomorrow is the funeral day, the day of the revolution. And she hasn’t told Ye Xiu about her plans to join.

It would only worry him, she tries to justify to herself. But she can see the hypocrisy in this – she hates being left out and left behind, and isn’t that exactly what she’s doing now?

It’s only after a long while that she finally falls into an uneasy sleep. Across the city, others, too, echo these restless movements, lost in fitful dreams and imaginings, or else stare into the sky on this moonless night.

One day more…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is now officially the longest thing I've ever written and posted......
> 
> If you enjoyed, or if you have any critiques/questions, please leave a comment!! Comments are so important to me <3
> 
> Next (and last) part will hopefully be out before the OVA release, but no promises. I don't know how long it's going to be (this part wayyy exceeded my expectation), so we'll see, I guess. This will definitely see a conclusion, though, I promise you. Until then - see you at the barricade!


	3. until we reach that day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the time is now, the day is here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long, and I'm really, really sorry. But here we are, finally at the conclusion.
> 
> For maximum enjoyment, if you've been following as I post these, I highly recommend you skim through last chapter, because it’s been a while, and there are lots of worldbuilding details here that may otherwise be confusing. I think doing so will allow a greater appreciation of this chapter.
> 
> In any case, as always, please read and enjoy!

_I can’t go back now_.

Such are Blue River’s thoughts as she flees through the silent streets of the city, away from the location of the operation. She lingered in the area just long enough to see the policemen leading away the captured and restrained criminals, including Huang Shaotian and Bullet Rain.

It all went wrong so quickly, and of course her little warning served next to no purpose at all. And she just _left_ them, to fend for themselves.

This is what Huang Shaotian had told her to do, and he and Bullet Rain are capable individuals who have quickly and successfully escaped from the police before. They might even manage it in less than a day. The rational part of her knows this.

But at the same time, her stomach twists with guilt and self-loathing. Some part of her always thought that the core members of Blue Rain were untouchable gods, but the one time she comes along on a mission it becomes a disaster… if only she kept better watch, if only she could fight, if only she could make a positive difference for once in her _goddamn_ pathetic life…

Finally, her steps slow to a halt, and she leans back against the wall of the narrow alleyway, breathing heavily, the night air cooling the sweat on her skin. With the adrenaline rush finally wearing off, she slides down to sit on the ground.

She can’t go back to Blue Rain like this, having failed so completely and utterly. It was a miracle they ever accepted her in the first place, and it would be a miracle if they still accepted her after this. But where can she go from here?

She wants nothing more than to collapse right now – it’s out of sight and safe enough here, and she can be awake and gone before anyone knows. The morning would be a better time for her to plan…

But then a realization jolts her. Tomorrow afternoon – the funeral procession – that’s when the Glory Alliance is planning to start their rebellion, their fight for a better world.  

It has nothing to do with her, there’s no reason for her to join this, she thinks. It’s not her fight.

But – Lu Hanwen, Little Lu. He cares. He will be there at the front lines. Blue River knows this, because she’s tried to talk him out of it, to no avail.

Her hand curls into a fist. She has to protect him. It doesn’t matter if Blue Rain breaks ties with her, she thinks, Little Lu is Little Lu, and she refuses to see him hurt. She _will_ keep him out of trouble, like she’s always done. And then… and then she’ll figure things out from there.

Just for now, she thinks as she closes her eyes, she’s on her own.

 

*

The next day, the day of the funeral. By the afternoon, a thick layer of clouds has coalesced and dampened the light of the sun, fitting the somber atmosphere.

One moment, Chairman Feng’s funeral procession is progressing solemnly through the streets of the city, a throng of people following along like the tail of a comet.

What happens next happens too quickly for anyone to accurately recount later. There are suddenly too many armed guardsmen everywhere, and then jostling, shouts, gunshots –

The rage of a wronged people crashes down like a breaking wave, and it sweeps through the city unchecked. They rise, they tumble, they fly, they resist. In less than an hour, insurgents have stormed the guardposts and erected barricades in the streets of the city. People are called to arms; the war begins.

 

Tang Rou and some of the core members of the Alliance gather and build the largest barricade at a location that Luo Ji deems optimal; smaller barricades block off other neighboring streets to form a defensible position. The Alliance members rush to gather the supplies they had prepared for this day, and keep the whole operation organized. A number of ordinary citizens assemble to help them, stacking the building materials, bringing an assortment of weapons and other useful supplies for them, evacuating the bystanders from the surrounding buildings, preparing to join the fight themselves. This is an encouraging sign, for this is what the Alliance hopes for, to spark a general uprising from all the people of the city with this act of defiance.

By the time the guardsmen arrive at the main barricade, they’re faced with an unexpectedly formidable sight. They demand surrender; the insurgents refuse. Wary of directly attacking, the soldiers station themselves at the other end of the street and wait, for now.

 

Lu Hanwen, for his part, feels _alive_.

He flits around the barricades, helping with anything and everything he can. His animated presence keeps everyone in motion as they prepare. He has a knife in his belt and pockets filled with cartridges and a rifle slung across his back, and – despite the protests of the older Alliance members – he’s ready and eager to fight.

When he arrives back at the main barricade after helping stabilize one of the smaller ones, he sees Tang Rou and some of the others in discussion with an older man. “I’ve been spying on the guardsmen,” the man is saying, “and from what they’re saying, they don’t plan to launch a full attack until nightfall, when-”

Oh hell no. Lu Hanwen is all too familiar with this intimidating man, and he’s no ally here to help them. “Don’t trust a word he says!” he shouts, dashing over.

The others stare in silence, automatically parting for him as he slows and then stands confidently before the old man. The man towers over him, but his brow is creased in fear and anger. Lu Hanwen stares right back up with a defiant smirk.

“I heard what went down last night,” he says conversationally. “Huang Shao was pissed and wouldn’t shut up about it, but I bet he was even worse with you guys. Probably talked all your ears off, no wonder they escaped so quickly. Then again, maybe you’re just incompetent.

“Anyway, whatever you’re trying to do here, if you’re trying to spy on us, it’s not going to work. Did you really think none of us here would recognize you, _Inspector Han Wenqing_ , hm?”

With that, recognition ripples through the students. Most of them haven’t seen this man in person before, but they’ve certainly heard his name as one of the chief policemen of the city. They reach for their weapons.

“Little rain brat,” the man growls.

“And proud,” says Lu Hanwen. “Don’t mess with my family, got it?” He bares his teeth, and though he’s still so small, there’s a frightening ferocity to it.

In short order, they have the spy securely tied to a post. Han Wenqing doesn’t resist. He’s surrounded, and knows there’s no way out of this. But he won’t do anything stupid, nor will he beg for mercy, because he’s not that kind of person. He will go down with his honor and values intact.

The others cheer for Lu Hanwen, Gao Yingjie claps him on the back, even Sun Xiang expresses a short word of approval. To all of this, Lu Hanwen grins in response. But this encounter reminds him of another worrisome thing, because when Huang Shaotian and Zheng Xuan made it back to Blue Rain that morning, Blue River wasn’t with them. And they, in turn, grew worried, as they had expected her to have returned long earlier.

What happened to Blue River? Lu Hanwen would have gone to look, but the revolution was upon them, and he had to be here. He can only hope that she’s safe now, and that she will stay safe during this chaos.

 

But then –

“They caught him!” Luo Ji’s frantic gasp echoes in the air as he bursts in. “Steamed Bun, he told me to run, he, he, they didn’t shoot him down but he – they got him –”

Steamed Bun was supposed to just scout the area and report back any findings. He had his gun and his bricks, he should have been fine. But…

“Where is he now?” Tang Rou asks urgently, rushing to the edge of the barricade along with the others, the spy forgotten for now. “At the end of this street?” Luo Ji nods and points, and they crowd forward, and listen carefully.

A few heartbeats pass, and they suddenly hear Steamed Bun’s distinctive, cheerful voice cutting through from the end of the street –

“Hey, bro, that’s a really big gun, huh? What’s your star sign?”

Oh, Steamed Bun. Something about his carefree spirit makes even this frightening situation just a little bit better, and more than a few of them crack smiles of fond exasperation and relief.

Qiao Yifan stands close to Tang Rou. “They have our friend, we have their agent. Are you set on the death of that spy?” he murmurs.

She understands immediately. “Less so than on the life of Steamed Bun.”

“Then listen,” he says, “I’ll go out, offer an exchange, our man for theirs…”

He cuts off. They’re all listening carefully, and so they all hear the sounds of a scuffle breaking out down the street. And then, very clearly, one shot ringing through the air.

Steamed Bun’s voice goes silent for good.

“They killed him,” Luo Ji breathes, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god, they just killed him, he’s dead, he’s dead…”

Tang Rou says nothing for a long moment. Then, she glances back at Han Wenqing and says to him, coolly, simply:

“Your friends have just shot you.”

 

*

A few days prior, Ye Xiu recalls hearing some vague whispers on the wind that told of trouble to come at the chairman’s funeral. Nothing concrete, but he knows to avoid the area just in case. Better safe than sorry, especially in their current circumstances.

When he finally wakes that morning, it’s rather late – the sun is already high, and Su Mucheng has already left the house. He’s not entirely surprised he slept for so long, given the harrowing events of the previous night. It’s not unusual for Su Mucheng to be out at this hour, but he knows she’ll return soon enough, and he can advise her then to stay away from the funeral in case of trouble.

But the hours drag on with no sign of Su Mucheng, and Ye Xiu begins to get a sense of foreboding. His gut instinct has a tendency of being right, more often than not, and something tells him that Su Mucheng got herself wrapped up in whatever’s happening.

It’s a terrifying thought. He stands abruptly from his chair, scribbles a note, pulls on a coat, and leaves his home.

This area of the city is still relatively calm, but now that he’s outside, he thinks he can hear the faint sounds of commotion in the distance. Shouts. Gunfire.

When he reaches the street, a figure rushes right past him toward the source of the commotion, almost crashing into him in their hurry. “Sorry,” they gasp out, briefly pausing to look back, and Ye Xiu sees that it’s a girl with short dark hair, likely a street urchin.

“What’s going on?” Ye Xiu asks her, because she looks like someone who knows.

“Revolution,” she says shortly. “I don’t know the exact streets, but I’m about to find out. Sir, you should stay here, you’ll be safe.” Without another word, she turns and continues sprinting away down the streets, and is out of sight again in an instant.

Ye Xiu can’t help but feel impressed at her incredible speed – it definitely wouldn’t have come without a lot of practice. But ultimately, he can’t take the girl’s advice. Because, if he’s right and Su Mucheng is there, if the worst should happen…

He’s still somewhat tired from last night, and he’s too old to run as fast as that street urchin. But he follows in her tracks as rapidly as he can, mind already spinning with plans.

 

If Blue River had the mind to spare, she might have connected the dots and realized the rather significant identity of the man she almost knocked over. After all, she’s always been good with locations and directions, and Su Mucheng had given her the address of where she and Lord Grim lived. But at this moment, Blue River’s mind is preoccupied with far more pressing matters.

She’d never paid too much attention during the Alliance planning meetings, but she knows that they hadn’t been certain where the barricades would go up, there had only been a list of likely locations. Once she gets close enough, though, she’ll have a better idea of the situation, and she can check each of the barricades for Little Lu.

When she arrives at the nearest of the barricades, it’s to a scene of utter chaos. The soldiers have launched their attack upon this barricade in earnest, and the insurgents are valiantly fighting back.

Her eyes dart around the battle zone, assessing the scene in an instant. She just needs to find that familiar face…

She doesn’t find Lu Hanwen, but she does find someone else, and a gun turning toward his exposed chest. The sight registers in her mind before she even has a chance to consciously process it, and she’s sprinting forward.

 

_“Yo Mo Fan,” Tang Hao grins, “you used to pickpocket right? If any of us die, make sure to get our stuff so the soldier bastards don’t, got it?”_

_It’s an incredibly morbid thing to say, but it earns laughter from the others regardless. The planned revolution is still several days away, still a nebulous thing in their imaginations about which they can joke._

_An Wenyi, however, adopts a serious look on his face. “That’s actually a good point, though. We don’t have infinite supplies and it’s logical to recover what we can. If Mo Fan’s fine with it, it would make sense for him to be in charge of that…”_

_Mo Fan looks at the two of them, and then at Tang Rou, who’s listening to the conversation from the side and watching him._

_He nods. He’s never been very good at direct fighting, but this is something he can do._

“Ready,” Tang Hao mutters from beside him. “Here they come…”

This smaller barricade is led by Mo Fan, Tang Hao, and An Wenyi; their forces are filled out by other Alliance members and those that joined for the fight today. While An Wenyi stays back and helps the wounded as they come, he and Tang Hao are the ones fighting at the front when the soldiers finally storm their barricade.

“The new world succeeds the old!” Tang Hao hollers as the enemies rush them – he’s truly a natural fighter. Mo Fan can never hope to match him, but he does alright holding his own and disabling his opponents with the rifle in his hand. But in his gut, he knows it’s only a matter of time before he goes down – their offensive comes slightly sooner than anticipated, and the Alliance doesn’t have as many people on their side here as they had hoped…

Mo Fan fires a shot, reloads, twists around, and there’s a barrel of a musket pointing right at him, no time –

 _Bang_.

Mo Fan hears the shot, but feels no pain.

The soldier stumbles backwards, and another shot from someone else takes him down. But Mo Fan hardly notices, because there’s a new body collapsed to the ground before him. He kneels down, seeing ragged clothes already turning crimson from the bullet that had found the wrong target.

Worse, he knows this face. He reaches for her hand and stares in quiet horror at the girl who has just taken a bullet for him.

“Dumbass,” Blue River says to him, and then more quietly, “…did I make a difference… but Little Lu – I couldn’t…”

She never finishes the thought. Her empty eyes reflect the gray of the clouds above.

 

Meanwhile, the main barricade suffers a simultaneous attack.

“We need more ammo!” calls Gao Yingjie. Instead of a gun, he’s relying on tossing vials of makeshift explosives to keep the opponents at bay, but he can see the dwindling supplies of ammunition as the others fire.

“On it!”

At first, no one realizes who the speaker is. But a second later, they see a silhouette darting out of the barricade and into the exposed street, a makeshift basket in one hand. By the time they realize who it is, it’s too late for them to shout for him to come back, and they can only watch with their hearts in their throats. 

Lu Hanwen knows no fear. He is, in fact, boldly humming a little song as he dances through the battle zone, disappearing and reappearing among the clouds of smoke and dust, some instinct or higher power guiding him to avoid the flying bullets. Even as he scurries from one fallen guardsmen to the next, raiding their bodies for cartridges, his attitude is as though he’s simply on a cheerful stroll on a warm summer’s day.

“Whatever the difficulties, I’ll never cry; whatever the dangers, I’ll never panic,” he sings. It’s a familiar children’s song, almost comically out of place on this brutal battlefield. “Even if I’m chased by a pack of wolves, I’ll still just treat it like a game…”

And then a bullet finds its mark.

They can only watch in horror as his too-small form crumples to the ground. Another shot hits him, then a third for good measure, and Lu Hanwen moves no more.

Above, the gray skies finally spill over, gently. Nothing more than a little fall of blue rain.

 

*

“They’re retreating!”

The announcement comes as a tremendous relief to the insurgents – after an endless amount of fighting, they finally manage to drive back the guardsmen. Still, they haven’t gotten off lightly, and no one feels much like celebrating as they regroup.

“Stay on guard,” Tang Rou reminds everyone as she walks amidst the bustle of activity, taking stock of the situation, the resources they have left. “They’ll be back for another assault, sooner or later.”

She senses Qiao Yifan fall into step beside her, and she asks him in a quieter voice, “How are the other barricades?”

“They’re alright, they withstood their attacks,” says Qiao Yifan. “But given our current situation, we might be better off moving everyone to this one.”

Tang Rou nods. “I’ll leave that to you, then.” She pauses and looks up at the sky. “Night’s falling… They may try to attack under cover of darkness, while they think we’re sleeping. Do what you can to keep everyone awake and alert.” And keep their spirits up, she thinks, despite their losses.

So many moving parts, so many things to keep in mind. If this were anyone else, they would almost certainly collapse from the dizzying pressure of it all. But Tang Rou simply doesn’t feel the exhaustion – her single-minded determination and sheer willpower keep herself, and everyone around her, moving forward.

She spots someone she’s looking for, and comes over. “Sir,” she says. “Lord Grim, it was?”

The man pauses in fixing a weapon and turns to her. “Yes?”

Tang Rou still doesn’t really know what to think of this man. Anyone who didn’t live under a rock had heard the name Lord Grim before at one point or another, but this is the first time she’s ever seen him in the flesh. At some point in the fighting, this man had managed to slip over to their side of the barricade, without the enemy noticing, and he started fighting alongside them.

Suspicions of underhanded trickery were quickly dispelled when they saw this man battling against the soldiers. Despite his appearance of age, and despite his primary reputation as a harmless philanthropist, he had the power and ferocity to turn the tide of battle. Even Tang Rou herself wasn’t sure if she could best him.

“I would like to thank you, sir,” she says, “for your skill and courage today. You saved my life in the fighting earlier, and your contributions have helped us greatly with our cause.”

“No thanks are necessary,” the man answers. “Although, I would like to make a request.”

“Go on.”

Lord Grim looks over to the side, where the prisoner is still bound. His hand hangs down and he ignores everything around him. “That man… He tried to spy on you, correct?”

“Yes. Inspector Han Wenqing.” And they’d only found out because of… But she shakes the thought aside. Focus. Keep moving.

“Let me take care of him,” says Lord Grim.

An unusual request, but one within her power to grant. Perhaps he has a personal vendetta against him, but it’s none of her business, nor does she particularly care what happens to this enemy of the people. “Very well,” says Tang Rou. “He’s yours to deal with. Do what you have to do.”

Lord Grim checks the pistol he’s fixing, then, nodding in satisfaction, he goes over to the prisoner and unties him from the post to which he’s bound, but leaves the other ropes around his body to restrict his movements. The prisoner can only awkwardly hobble forward as Lord Grim leads him away to a side alley neighboring the barricade.

 

They’re deep in the alleyway before Han Wenqing speaks. “I knew it was you. Lord Grim. Escaped convict 10137.”

Ye Qiu says nothing.

“Go on, then. Kill me now. Take your revenge at last.”

Ye Qiu’s face is unreadable. He switches the pistol to his non-dominant hand and withdraws a knife from his side.

Han Wenqing sneers at that. “Slit my throat, then. It fits your dirty, sneaking ways.”

“I never took you for much of a talker,” mutters Ye Qiu, testing the sharpness of the blade. “Isn’t it _my_ job to be this annoying? You can’t just switch our roles like this. Turn around.”

“Our roles have already been reversed with this entire situation,” spits Han Wenqing. “The convict leading the policeman to execution. Does it feel good to finally have me at your mercy?”

Ye Qiu meets his eyes, and Han Wenqing can finally place his expression, but it’s not one he was expecting. Ye Qiu actually looks… mildly offended at that. “What kind of person do you think I am?” he says.

“Once a criminal, always a criminal.”

“What’s right and what’s lawful isn’t always the same thing-”

“That’s exactly the justification of a criminal. I’ve seen your true nature, and that’s what you’ll always be.”

Ye Qiu looks at him sadly. “You’re wrong,” he says, “and always have been wrong. People can change.”

Before Han Wenqing can react, the other man is suddenly standing behind him. He’s about to flinch away – he will stare death in the face, thank you very much – but a hand catches his wrist.

Ye Qiu cuts the cords on his wrists, then the ones on his feet, and then straightens and tells Han Wenqing, “There, you’re free.”

Han Wenqing is not easily astonished, but now he stands there with shock written all over his normally stoic face. “You-” He flexes his wrists, tries again. “You- why? Do you expect to use this as a bargaining chip? A life debt? This changes nothing between us.”

“Of course not. I wasn’t expecting it to.”

“If you let me go here, I _will_ continue to pursue you until your arrest.” Han Wenqing’s angry scowl is back.

Ye Qiu smiles humorlessly. “That’s assuming I make it out of here alive. But if I do, now you know where to find me, under the name Lord Grim. I’m done running.”

He lifts the pistol and fires into the air.

“Go,” Ye Qiu says. Han Wenqing looks at him, and runs.

 

A few moments later, Ye Xiu returns to the barricade with the still-smoking gun and tells Tang Rou, “It’s done.”

He means what he says to Han Wenqing. At the barricade, watching these young insurgents fighting for their lives and dreams, he realizes that he has only ever been running on borrowed time.

But he now grows old, and tired; he knows all too well that he cannot keep playing this game forever. He has done his duty in raising Su Mucheng and helping the lives of those around him. Now, it is time for the chase to draw to a close.

 

*

When Mo Fan retreats to the main barricade with his fellow fighters, he sees a group of Alliance members clustered around someone. He’s about to ignore it and continue on, as is his tendency with things that have nothing to do with him, but a voice calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Mo Fan!”

He looks back, and sees none other than _Su Mucheng_ breaking free of the crowd and rushing toward him for a hug. “Thank god,” she whispers into his shoulder, “you’re still with us…”

He returns the hug without thinking, but his mind is racing. What is Su Mucheng doing here? Why isn’t she home safe? She’s not a full member of the Alliance, she had never made any indication of coming today…

“I came to help,” she says, answering his unspoken question. “You’re all my friends, I can’t just stand by…”

“You…” Mo Fan wants nothing more than for her to leave this dangerous place. The greatest help she could offer was the knowledge that she, if no one else, would survive. But he doesn’t say this, because he doesn’t know if that argument would be enough to convince her.

He says, instead, “Tang Rou wants you to go and help the Happy café boss. She’s hosting a lot of people that are worried and scared right now, and you’re the best person for helping with that.” Only Su Mucheng, and only this desperate situation, could draw this many words from him at once.

“But-”

Mo Fan doesn’t know what comes over him in that moment, but she’s right there, her face so close to his own, and he leans down and presses his lips to hers.

Su Mucheng pulls him closer, tilting into the kiss, seeking more. When they break apart, she slides her hands down over his and holds them tightly. “Stay alive,” she whispers. “Please, Mo Fan, come home from this.” And then she’s gone.

 

“Did the leader really give her that order?” A man has come up to him, a stranger. Mo Fan glances at him, then away, and doesn’t answer.

“You said that to take her away from the barricade.” It’s not a question.

Mo Fan is still silent. If the stranger’s guess is correct, then what is there to say?

It’s not like he’s never seen death before, but it was always somewhat removed from him. Yet now when he closes his eyes, all he sees is the vibrant light fading from a girl’s eyes, her life bleeding out between his fingers, and those desperate, despairing last words upon his ears…

Blue River never should have been here, this was never her fight. She had only appeared to look after Lu Hanwen, because of her love for her family, and _he_ –

Mo Fan hadn’t seen it happen, but he saw the body, later, and the crimson bloom over the young boy’s heart.

He feels guilt over deceiving Su Mucheng, but if the other option is seeing her sightless eyes, her blood staining the pavement… he would choose deception any day.

“Is she your lover?”

“What- I-”

The man chuckles at his embarrassment, and Mo Fan wonders why he’s even humoring the presence of this stranger. Had this been any other time, he would have completely brushed him off and walked away.

But… he has perhaps less than a day to live, here at this barricade. The imminent threat of death can change even the most steadfast of personalities.

The man continues to look at him, wearing a faint smirk as he waits patiently for a response. Mo Fan is suddenly strongly reminded of the girl he has just sent away – she does the same thing, albeit less smugly, when encouraging him to speak more.

“Anyone who stays here may die,” he mutters. “I can’t let that happen to her.”

“Then why don’t you leave here as well?” The man sounds genuinely curious.

“Because this is our fight.” The full reasoning behind his arrival at the Alliance and his subsequent decision to stay could never be explained in a succinct manner, or perhaps any manner at all, not even to himself. Still, this statement, for Mo Fan, is the crux of the matter, and all that he feels like sharing with this man here.

The man hums noncommittally. “I see. Thank you, by the way.”

For what, Mo Fan wonders as the man walks away, but he doesn’t ask. Mo Fan doesn’t make a habit of poking about other people’s business, and so he leaves him, and walks over to join some of the others in the Alliance.

“Come, drink with us,” Gao Yingjie calls to him, an arm casually looped around Qiao Yifan’s shoulders. “There’s enough for all of us to have some.” There’s a tavern neighboring the barricade, which explains where they acquired the drinks.

“But not too much,” Qiao Yifan adds. “We still need to keep our wits.”

Most of the others who’ve attended regular meetings are here, too. Mo Fan takes his place in the rough circle, and is handed a drink.

“Here’s a toast to us,” someone says. “All of us. Even… even those who are no longer here.” The voice trails into quiet. The signs of their losses are evident in the gaps in their circle. Luo Ji shrinks into himself, seeming even smaller than normal. Gao Yingjie’s still smiling gently, but there’s a fear and exhaustion in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Let the wine of friendship never run dry,” someone else speaks up, lifting a bottle around to all of them.

“Raise a glass to freedom.”

“To the future.”

Even Sun Xiang has joined, which is vaguely unexpected. But he _is_ drunk more often than not, so perhaps it shouldn’t be all that surprising. “Here’s to our deaths making a difference,” he says. “Here’s to a world that doesn’t forget us as soon as we’re gone.”

That was the fear, wasn’t it? That they would make the ultimate sacrifice for nothing? After those words, they fall quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, and drink.

Tang Rou declined to join them when asked. But she comes by at one point in the night, and speaks to a few of them.       

“Mo Fan,” she says to him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I know you ended up here by accident, and that you like to keep to yourself. But thank you for being here. And remember, no matter what, you’re one of us.”

He hesitates, then nods, a stiff jerk of his head. Tang Rou gives him a faint smile, and continues on.

When he looks up, he finds Sun Xiang staring at him, a strange expression on his face. The blond quickly turns to look in another direction, aggressively lifting another bottle to his mouth, and Mo Fan can’t help but wonder why he’s so worked up now, when he has never seemed to care about any of this in the first place.

 

The night passes by agonizingly slowly. Yet it’s still all too soon when the sky begins to lighten, pink and orange streaking the clouds.

No attack came in the night, and all is quiet now. But for the insurgents, this is not a good sign, either.

“The city sleeps…” Qiao Yifan murmurs. No one has come to join their fight for freedom. And without the uprising of the general people, they at the barricade, alone, stand not a chance against the army.

The Alliance, scared, expectant, turns to their leader. Tang Rou meets each of their eyes, and takes a breath.

“Beyond the barricade,” she says, “there lies a better world. This is the truth, this is what we believe in, this is a dream shared among all of us. We are here because we dare to build the future together, and nothing they do will ever take that away.

“Today, we may fall. But we will not fade away quietly. We will make them hear us, let our shouts echo across the skies. There will be those who listen. And they will rise to take our place, and they will continue our fight, until the earth is free.

“My brothers and sisters, those who die here, die in the radiance of glory. We are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.”

 

*

Morning comes, and with it, the army’s attack.

The insurgents fight valiantly, perhaps even more fiercely than they did the day before, but it’s a losing battle, and they all know it. Ye Xiu sees them fall, one by one, and every young fighter he cannot save is another weight upon his soul.

Eventually, Tang Rou and the small handful of her fellows who are still standing are driven back into the tavern neighboring the barricade. But before that happens, Ye Xiu breaks away from them, and, miraculously, gets a reprieve from the fighting as the soldiers concentrate their power on the building.

Some ways off, there’s a grating at the edge of the street, and Ye Xiu recognizes it as one that leads to the underground sewer system of the city. A disgusting, terrible labyrinth, but it will enable him to escape the soldiers’ encirclement of the streets around this barricade.

He dashes toward it, but then he sees a familiar body on the ground, and he stops, and kneels before it.

Mo Fan was shot when trying to recover supplies from their allies and enemies, which explains why his body is all the way out here, a distance away from where much of the fighting is now taking place. He’s bleeding profusely. But his chest still rises and falls – he is still alive.

Su Mucheng truly loves him. Ye Xiu knows that, she hasn’t kept this a secret. And although Ye Xiu only spoke to him briefly the previous night, he can tell he’s not a bad kid. He’d managed to get her to safety, when even Ye Xiu might not have been able to convince her.

If the boy dies here, the effect it would have on her…

It’s selfish, perhaps, but Ye Xiu still vividly remembers delivering tragic news to a young girl all those years ago, how she’d tried to maintain the appearance of strength, despite her world falling apart. Su Mucheng is no stranger to loss, but she should never have to bear that burden again.

And he had made a promise to Su Muqiu, to take care of her. He can’t break this promise now.

These thoughts rush through his mind in an instant, and he makes a decision. Ye Xiu pulls open the sewer grating, lifts the boy onto his back, and descends into the darkness. He will save Mo Fan, no matter what it takes.

 

*

Sun Xiang opens his eyes.

The absence of sound does what the fighting and shouting and gunshots could not – it rouses him from his stupor.

He pushes himself to a sitting position on the ground – it seems he had passed out on the floor of the tavern after drinking last night. No one immediately rushes toward him. He stretches his arms, rubs his eyes, yawns, blinks, and understands.  

Tang Rou stands at the other end of the room, her back to the window, illuminated from behind by the morning sunlight filtering in. She’s still gripping a spear, holding it up against the squadron of soldiers that has her cornered with guns pointed. She stares down death, proud and fierce as ever.

“Then shoot me,” she says. “But you cannot kill me, nor any of us. For we are what you can never hope to kill, no matter how hard you try.

“We are the future.”

Sun Xiang has no weapons on him, no way to change the situation before him. He was ignored while he was passed-out drunk on the ground, likely because everyone thought he was already dead, and now, the soldiers are all facing away from him. He could go back to sleep now, and survive this day, and no one would be the wiser. As he’d said over and over again, this was a hopeless, stupid endeavor from the start. He has no obligation to help with a suicide mission.

Why is Sun Xiang even here, alongside people dying for a cause in which he doesn’t believe? Every member of the Alliance had wondered this about him, at one point or another. The reason, as it turns out, is simple. Pathetic. But the truth is the truth, and Sun Xiang was never in the business of self-deception.

The moth is drawn toward the flame, regardless of the heat or danger. In the end, Sun Xiang’s actions – leaving Samsara, throwing his lot in with this crowd – were all for one person only.

Before he knows it, he’s on his feet and pushing his way through the soldiers. They startle at his appearance, immediately turning their guns on him as well. Yet none of them stop him as he walks to stand by Tang Rou, his stride unusually steady.

This, he thinks, is it. The cynic in him wants to scoff, and say that this tragic end to their little game was inevitable. But he walks forward in silence, and faces the guards with his chin held high.

Tang Rou’s gaze jumps to him, surprise written all over her expression. “Sun Xiang…?”

“Long live the future!” he declares to the soldiers, watching their eyes narrow, their fingers tightening on the triggers. “I am one of them. Today we lose, but tomorrow, that may not be the case.”

And then Sun Xiang turns to his sun, and hesitantly, extends his hand. “Do… you permit it?”

Realization, acceptance. Forgiveness, perhaps. Tang Rou grasps his forearm with a smile, and the gunshots ring out.

 

Shortly after, the rebellion ends. No survivors remain at the barricades.

 

*

The sun has already set by the time Ye Xiu stumbles out of the sewer system, dirty and trembling and exhausted and wondering if he already died at some point earlier several hours ago, and this was just his punishment for whatever he’s done during his lifetime to deserve it.

Then he sees the dark figure waiting for him at the exit, and he decides that he’s still alive, because not even a divine being would be this cruel to him, probably.

“Give up,” says Inspector Han Wenqing. “You have nowhere to run anymore, 10137.”

Interestingly, it looks like he’s shaking as he clutches that baton of his. Or maybe it’s Ye Xiu himself that’s shaking. At this point, he can’t tell the difference.

“That’s fine,” Ye Xiu says dully, because he knows what he said to him earlier, “but this is _incredibly_ bad timing. We need a doctor.” Mo Fan is still draped across his back, and Ye Xiu can still feel him breathing, but it’s growing ever fainter.

“That’s not my problem.”

“It should be! Aren’t you supposed to protect the people of the country? Isn’t that your job? And not chasing some random petty criminal through _decades_?”

“I serve justice. This boy is from the barricades, no? A traitor to the country-”

“Inspector Han, _this boy is going to die_.” Ye Xiu is the type to hide his emotions behind jovial smiles, especially when dealing with this officer in particular, but now he lets slip into his voice some of that fear and desperation that’s swallowing him whole. He’s seen too many corpses today. Too many young corpses.

And… perhaps Han Wenqing has as well. He was, after all, at the barricades.

There’s a long pause. They stand in the darkness, Ye Xiu breathing heavily, dripping sweat and sewer water, feeling the weight of the boy upon his back, hoping that there’s still time left.

And then, almost too quietly to hear, “Very well.”

“What was that?” Ye Xiu isn’t sure he heard clearly. Or maybe he is, and some part of him just wants to see the inspector grit his teeth and say it again.

“I said, _very well_. Half an hour. Use my carriage if you want. Then I’m bringing you in.”

In less dire times, Ye Xiu might have broken into a wide grin at that. As it is, his mouth twitches as he carefully lifts Mo Fan into the carriage, then climbs in himself. Han Wenqing enters as well, and Ye Xiu gives the driver directions.

They travel in a tense silence, but not for long. “By the way,” Ye Xiu says, suddenly, “Ye Qiu was never my real name. It’s Ye Xiu.” He’s not sure why he says it. Perhaps it’s his way of dealing with all that’s happened this past day. Escaping to the past, to simpler times, as absurd as that thought sounds – since when has his life ever been simple? Or maybe he just wants to break the awkward atmosphere of the carriage ride. But regardless, out of him spills his backstory, the full story which he has told no one, not even Su Mucheng.

The story of his younger twin, and how he took his place in prison. How he escaped. How his meeting with the man in the inn permanently changed him for good. And Su Muqiu’s story, a boy forced into desperate circumstances, and the younger sister he left behind.

When he finishes, Han Wenqing says nothing. The flickering lights from the lampposts outside cast sharp shadows across his face as he sits there, indistinguishable from a stone gargoyle.

They arrive. “Hold on, Old Han, I’ll be fast,” Ye Xiu says.

“I await your return,” is the stiff reply.

Ye Xiu smiles lightly. He carefully lifts the injured Mo Fan out of the carriage and carries him into the building. This is the home of a doctor he knows and trusts, a skilled doctor who, despite his eccentricities, will help any patient that needs it. It’s late at night, almost the time the doctor normally goes to bed, so he’s in a rather foul mood when he comes to the door. But he sees the injured boy, and he sighs, adjusts his glasses, and gets to work.

“Zhang Jiale,” the doctor calls, as he’s gathering the materials he needs, and a man with long hair in a ponytail pokes his head around the corner.

“Yeah Xinjie, what’s – oh hey, isn’t that-?” His gaze falls upon the injured boy.

“Yes. I remember seeing him when we were treating Sun Zheping’s hand. Go fetch him, would you?”

“Man, what bad luck for that family,” this Zhang Jiale mutters, but he’s already halfway out the door. “Sheesh, Big Sun, I sure hope you’re doing better…”

Ye Xiu doesn’t plan to stay for long, as he promised, just long enough to ensure that Mo Fan will be in good hands for the time being. But when he looks outside, the carriage – and the inspector – are gone.

_I await your return._

Ye Xiu has a very good idea of Han Wenqing’s character, after having been chased all these years. And he knows that Han Wenqing does not simply go back on agreements.

Old Han…

 

*

Inspector Han Wenqing instructs the carriage to take him to the river that slices through the city. His legs carry him along the riverside path, and then onto one of the bridges that spans it.

He stands at the edge of the bridge and stares into the roiling darkness far below.

He thinks.

 

*

 _I’ll be back soon_ – _SMC_

Su Mucheng scribbles this hasty message on the back of the note that Ye Xiu had left for her when he had left for the barricade.

The waiting is unbearable. She came home after the rebellion fully ended, only to find the house empty save for Ye Xiu’s short note. He… he had gone to the barricade. Because of her…

She can’t stay here any longer, stewing in her guilt and fearful imaginings, and so she leaves the house. There’s no particular destination in mind, so she wanders, to try and find some clue to what happened to the two people she currently worries for the most. Walking around helps. It’s more proactive than empty waiting, at least, and it helps settle her mind just a little.

Night has fallen, and so she tries to stick to the lighted paths. The streets are empty, which isn’t terribly surprising considering the turmoil of these past two days. Her path takes her to one of the bridges that span the city river.

Unexpectedly, there’s a figure standing on the bridge, the first person she’s seen out tonight. Perhaps she can talk to them, ask them if they know anything. She hurries her footsteps, but as she watches, the figure climbs over the railing of the bridge, and faces the rushing water below.

Before she knows it, she’s shouting.

 

It takes barely any effort at all for Han Wenqing to cross the railing, so that he stands on the wrong side. Far below his feet, the dark river rushes along its journey.

He closes his eyes, and –

“Sir!” The shout pierces the night air. For Han Wenqing, it might as well be a cannon shot.

He turns and sees a young woman sprinting toward him, eyes wide. But she stops several paces away. She’s saying something to him, something warm, something calming, but he can’t hear it over the roaring of the river and the pounding of his own heart.

He…

He can’t do it. Not with a spectator, at least.

Han Wenqing pulls himself back from the edge, back over the railing, and with all the tattered pieces of professionalism he can muster, he turns to the girl. “Come, it’s not safe now,” he says gruffly, as though she hasn’t just seen him at his most vulnerable. “I’ll walk you home.”

 

When Ye Xiu arrives back at his home to find Su Mucheng _gone_ , nothing can stop the raw panic and fear that swells within him. Where did she go – she must have come back at some point earlier, she left a note, but where is she now, why did she leave, what happened to her – she wouldn’t have –

Despite his utter exhaustion, he’s almost about to go back out and look for her himself when he suddenly hears the front door unlocking. “Mucheng!”

She gives him a relieved smile, and he’s about to sweep her into a hug, when he sees the dark figure looming behind her, and his heart stutters.

In an instant, he’s pushed Su Mucheng behind him, his eyes blazing. “It’s me you want, Inspector Han! Leave her out of this, don’t you dare-”

“It’s fine,” Su Mucheng rushes to reassure him. “I was wandering around the city, and because it was so late the inspector offered to walk me home.” She hesitates, slipping her hand to Ye Xiu’s wrist and squeezing it tightly, hoping he understands the meaning behind her next half-whispered words. “I… I found him at the bridge.”

“…I see.” Ye Xiu’s voice is stone. He looks at Han Wenqing, who only glares back.

“Mucheng,” continues Ye Xiu, not taking his eyes off of the inspector, “your friend is at Doctor Zhang’s, if you want to see him right now.” Zhang Xinjie would be annoyed at the interruption, probably, but Ye Xiu trusts Su Mucheng’s charisma.

For her part, Su Mucheng is curious to watch this interaction play out, but respects Ye Xiu’s implied request. More importantly, she’s been beside herself with worry this entire day. Mo Fan, against all odds, alive… She nods quickly and departs, leaving the two men to their tense standoff.

“Well,” says Ye Xiu, with a lightheartedness he doesn’t quite feel, “are you just going to stand and block my doorway, or do you want to come inside and talk this out like normal people?”

 

It’s surreal, inviting the inspector into his home for a chat, with nothing more hidden between them. But, well, here they are.

“What more do you want from me.” Han Wenqing’s voice is flat. He remains standing in the room, and so Ye Xiu does as well.

Ye Xiu can think of many possible answers to that question. On one hand, he’s inclined not to question his good fortune if the inspector really did somehow miraculously decide to just let him off for everything. But on the other hand, such behavior contradicts Han Wenqing’s earlier resolution, and is simply so radically uncharacteristic of him that Ye Xiu can’t help but feel curious, and somewhat concerned.

He cuts to the chase. “Why were you at the bridge?”

“What business is it of yours,” says Han Wenqing, “if I wish to die?”

A direct and forceful reply, like all other things Han Wenqing does in his life, and to some extent Ye Xiu expected this, given what Su Mucheng had – and hadn’t – said. But voicing it aloud makes it that much more real, and Ye Xiu can’t help but flinch at the harsh words.

“Why?” Ye Xiu asks. “Because I saved your life at the barricade? Was my being a decent person just too contradictory for your narrow worldview?” His tone is still half-jokingly exaggerated, because he’s dealing with this revelation the only way he knows how. He knew Han Wenqing was stubborn and set in his ways, but to this extent…

Han Wenqing works his jaw, as though physically chewing on the words he’s about to spit out. “You are an escaped convict,” he finally says, “a lying, despicable piece of trash, and you have plagued my life through the years with your existence. I in turn have tried to make your life as difficult as possible to bring you to justice.

“At the barricade I was captured, and by all means, the vengeance for which you hungered was yours, all it would take was a flick of your knife! I didn’t need your pity or your mockery, I would have rather you killed me, but you did not. What kind of demon are you, to let me go free? What kind of god?

“And then we met again, and you told me about your life, that you didn’t even commit the original crime for which you were imprisoned. The law, the system in which I have believed was wrong. And then I let you go, and I do not know why, because you still committed crimes that you must be held responsible for, and I cannot yield at the end of a chase – but I cannot live in the debt of a criminal, either!”

“So you couldn’t accept the fact that you were wrong?” snaps Ye Xiu. “That I’m not the shitty person you thought I was? So you thought the _only_ solution was to drown yourself in the river?” Ye Xiu can’t help but raise his voice, outrage lacing every syllable. “What kind of idiotic thinking is that?”

“Can’t you understand?” Han Wenqing snarls, but it’s more desperation than fury. “You break the law, yet you are not in the wrong! My entire life – everything that I have believed, and upheld, and worked for, striven for – I discover that it’s mistaken, that- that something else determines rightness and morality! That therefore my life up to this point has been meaningless! Where do I turn now? There is no way to go on-!”

“ _But there’s more than one way to start over_.”

Han Wenqing freezes. Ye Xiu takes a step closer.

“The world isn’t black and white, the law isn’t everything. Things aren’t what you thought they were, but so what? People can _change_ , Old Han,” Ye Xiu whispers. “And that includes you.”

At that, Han Wenqing takes a deep, shuddering breath, eyes squeezed shut. When he stumbles forward, Ye Xiu catches him, and holds him close.

 

*

Death. The air is thick with its scent, its suffocating presence.

Chang Xian would rather be anywhere but here.

But he’s a reporter, and so he has to tell what happened. No matter how horrifying it is to stand here, and look around, and see the blood and the corpses laid out on the ground, faces of people he’d talked to, laughed with, spent days or years alongside, people that he knows – that he _knew_ –

He tastes the bile rising in his throat, but he forces the bitterness back down, swipes at the moisture in his eyes, averts his gaze from the ground where the bodies have been laid next to each other. He looks instead at the others around him now, here to bear witness to the aftermath of this battle. Curious busybodies, or personal relations to the fallen. The sound of a wail pierces the air for a moment, then all goes still again.

Among the wanderers, one in particular catches his eye. He’s not sure why, as this man has his back to him. Maybe it’s the way he’s dressed particularly well, unusual and incongruous attire amidst the carnage. Maybe it’s his poise, or his posture, or how he’s been standing there for the longest time entirely motionless, like a statue. Chang Xian drifts over to stand by the man’s side, and he can’t help but look down, and see the two bodies lying there, side by side. Two boys, both younger than himself.

Chang Xian knew both of them, relatively well, in fact. He had been to Café Happy a few times in the past and had spoken to the people there, asked about their goals and motivations, for what they were fighting. And these two had been particularly kind and open with their answers, so much so that he had become friendly with them outside of his reporting as well. They both possessed that same sort of unassuming but fierce passion, and it had inspired him, a shy rookie reporter who still knew nothing about the world or the lofty ideals of _freedom_ and _justice_ and _glory_.

And now, he is here, and they are gone.

Qiao Yifan.

Gao Yingjie.

Their hands, he notices, are intertwined. Whoever moved their bodies had preserved this arrangement.

“Sir…” Chang Xian finally opens his mouth to address the man beside him. “I deeply apologize for interrupting your mourning. I’m a news reporter, and I know these two were among the leaders of this rebellion… Did you know them? Do you have any words to share?”

The man turns to face him. On another day, Chang Xian might have jumped at the sight of the missing eye and the extensive scarring that mars the left side of an otherwise handsome face. But after all he’s seen so far today, the young reporter just numbly waits for a reply.

“I do not mind,” the man replies. “Yes, I knew these two. Too well, and yet… not at all, it seems. Not enough. And it seems now that I can never make it up to them…”

He trails off. Chang Xian doesn’t think it would be appropriate to ask further, and so he lets the silence stretch between them once again. Some ways off, Chang Xian sees a young man helping another with a crippled leg and a black cane to navigate the streets and the bodies. Another duo kneels before a body, one of them making despairingly rapid hand gestures at unseeing eyes framed by blond hair. 

“You said you were a reporter?”

Chang Xian blinks, pulled back to the present. “Yes?”

The man is now following his gaze, looking out at the people before them, the living among the dead. “Look at us,” he murmurs, “leading such opposing lives, yet brought together by such a tragedy. Something like this makes all our daily struggles seem rather meaningless, doesn’t it?

“How many lives were affected by these deaths?” he continues. “Yet, how many know or understand why this even happened? How many will remember the causes for which these children laid down their lives?

“I suppose these are the words I have to share. Remember these youths, what they loved and why they fought. Tell their story, and perhaps we can understand, and continue their fight for a better world.” The man nods at him politely, and turns to leave.

Chang Xian is caught off guard by such a reply, but he still has the presence of mind to call out after him. “Wait, sir! Could – could I get your name? Who are you?”

The man, already several steps away, pauses. “Just a poor magician,” he says, finally. “Wishing for a miracle that can never be fulfilled.”

 

*

Time passes, as it always does. Mo Fan finds himself back in that room on the third floor of Café Happy.

It’s still empty, for now. The café boss hasn’t repurposed it for anything, and so everything is still as he remembers. The space left at the front for members to give reports, the tables arranged to facilitate conversations, the chairs scattered haphazardly around the room.

Empty chairs at empty tables.

Mo Fan is the type of person to keep to himself, to forget names and faces of those with whom he doesn’t interact much. But as he stands here in this room, looking around, he suddenly sees the Alliance members as clear as day, gathered for just another ordinary meeting.

An Wenyi, Song Qiying, Ge Caijie in calm and quiet conversation. The Shu twins and Dai Yanqi chatting and giggling over a novel; Zhao Yuzhe tries to approach the girls, then backs away slowly and goes to talk to Qin Muyun instead. Steamed Bun declares something loud and dumb, and Luo Ji rolls his eyes and punches him in the shoulder. Tang Hao cackles and nudges the surly Sun Xiang, trying to coax a smile from him. Gao Yingjie smiles patiently and Guo Shao listens in awe as Lu Hanwen recounts the exciting things he’s gotten up to as of late. “Don’t listen, he’s exaggerating,” Blue River informs Mo Fan, sliding into a seat next to him.

And then Tang Rou sweeps in, shining as brilliantly as ever, the reliable and diligent Qiao Yifan at her shoulder, bringing visions of a world reborn. And then…

And then nothing. Mo Fan slams his fist on the table, squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, the phantoms are gone.

His friends… no more.

When he comes back downstairs, Su Mucheng is waiting for him. He buries his face in her shoulder, and he cries and cries.

 

But.

Time passes, as it always does. Death is ruthless and merciless, as is life, as is love.

But we keep living anyway. We rise and we fall, but our journey goes on.

Do we continue after tragedy? Of course we do. Because, after all, we are human. What do you think?

 

(And one day, the newspaper City P Home will find itself with this headline splashed across the front page:

“The Alliance has not fallen. Glory will never fade.”)

 

*

On an ordinary sunny afternoon, as Su Mucheng teaches Mo Fan a new card game in the living room of the house and Ye Xiu tries not to make fun of him _too_ much for how bad he is – the silent kid has a terrible poker face, as it turns out – there’s a strong knock at the door.

“Yo, Old Han, you’re back?” Ye Xiu calls, casually leaning back in his chair to regard the doorway upside down.

The inspector looks at his ridiculous posture and is unimpressed. “I found Ye Qiu,” he announces without preamble.

“You- what?” Ye Xiu’s face twists in confusion. “Didn’t we already establish that I’m not…” And then his voice dies in his throat, when the person behind Han Wenqing steps into the house.

Because this person, his face – it’s not entirely Ye Xiu’s own, no, the years have changed the both of them, in different ways, and it has been decades since their separation – but still. He would recognize him anywhere.

“…Hi,” says Ye Qiu, with a tentative little wave.

Whatever he might have said next is smothered as Ye Xiu, in a rare display of emotion, throws himself at him.

“You came home, you wayward little brother!” Ye Xiu can’t hold back the silly grin that stretches across his face, even as he wraps his twin in his arms and says these teasing words.  

“What do you mean, _I_ came home?” Ye Qiu protests. “Who was the one that left in the first place?”

“Who was the one who caused that mess?”

“I-” Ye Qiu’s face is stricken, but Ye Xiu stops him from further apology.

“It’s okay,” says Ye Xiu. “It’s okay. We’re here, everything worked out in the end, no?” He ruffles his twin’s hair, and Ye Qiu scowls at him just like he used to, but there’s no real irritation behind it.

“I… went back and looked for you, you know,” Ye Xiu admits, finally dropping some of the silly act. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, and… and I’m glad to be wrong. For once,” he adds cheekily.

Ye Qiu sighs, but he’s finally smiling. “I’m happy you’re doing well,” he says. “What have you gotten yourself into all these years, you stupid older brother?”

What a question, Ye Xiu thinks. His gaze falls upon the shelf in the living room, where stand the three golden goblets, and beneath them, the Thousand Chance Umbrella. Wu Xuefeng, Su Muqiu, two people who had changed his life for the better, for good.

_I was fortunate to meet you, the most remarkable you._

“I didn’t ‘get myself’ into anything,” snorts Ye Xiu. “But…”

He looks at the people gathered around him now, who have fallen into his life through the years, and he thinks, _this is home_. These people here, and this love. Twenty-five years after it was stolen away from him, he has found home again.

Ye Xiu finds himself smiling, blinking away the tears that have gathered.

This is home. And for him, it’s enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this is complete, the longest story I have ever posted. This has truly been an adventure. I could honestly write another 8k of annotations about my writing and thought process for this…
> 
> Thank you to my friend for beta-ing (you’re the best) and to salt for keeping me sane. And, if you’ve made it all the way to here, thank you for reading and sticking along for the ride.
> 
> Please (please please :D) leave a comment with your thoughts, I’d love to hear them, I’ve poured so much of myself into this project haha... Feel free to ask questions or clarifications as well.
> 
> Thank you again, and stay tuned for more QZGS writing and translations from me <3


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